

### Wicked Tryst

Copyright © 2017 Amy F. Turner

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction and any characters that hold resemblances to anyone living or dead is merely coincidental and wholly the creation of the author. As such, no part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of this author. Also, this book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you read this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

About Amy F. Turner

Other books by Amy F. Turner

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"It is not enough to conquer. One must know how to seduce." _—Voltaire_

Chapter One

"This is such a bad idea. So bad. What the heck am I thinking?" she murmured under her breath at the spectacle her best girlfriend for life Autumn had lured her into on the pretense of living a little.

The last thing Zillah Crawford expected from an outing at the mysterious Underground a private club decorated in crimson walls and black leather seating and blood-red velvet cushions, was to find the dazzling masked man. Plenty of people walked about wearing masks like the ones found at a fancy masquerade party. Random masks appeared to be handed out to guests upon entering the club.

With this particular man that her eye fell upon time and again, there was this vibe of sophistication and confidence that oozed from his stance at the bar overlooking all playing out before him. It was difficult for Zillah to ignore him or the other women buzzing around him, yet she always found a man in a suit tailored to his body infinitely hot.

The man who caught her eye was all that even as he moved to the dance floor. Closer she gathered a better look at his formal party mask, the crisp white shirt against his olive skin, collar button undone casually, no tie yet gold cufflinks finished the look. A black leather band watch covered his wrist when she saw he checked it as the women tried to cling on to him, but he somehow avoided such advances but remained near enough.

When his scan rested on Zillah and lingered, she drew a quickened breath. Zillah believed the reaction had everything to do with the liquid courage of Tequila shots she downed with her roommate Autumn before they took the dance floor as if they owned it. Otherwise, she had no explanation for such an instantaneous attraction to some unknown man besides maybe she'd not dated in a while since her breakup with that two-bit cheater Peter. Afterward, she promptly buried herself up to her eyebrows in work.

As expected because Zillah went out with Autumn enough times to know better, that woman found a man in no time at all for a hook-up. She blamed Zillah for her lack of success dating due to her being far too picky. Wanting everything to be perfect, the perfectionist second-guessed everything and missed so much fun. Zillah could not help that about her nature, but tonight she supposed none of that mattered.

Autumn's philosophy blazed far in the other direction. Their world was not perfect and never would be. Why waste time and energy then seeking a fallacy. Autumn lived knee-deep in the moment and followed where it led like a hound dog. That way she had no regrets about anything. In her view, if she dolled up for some action, she intended to get her party on with the lucky candidate for sure and would enjoy every minute of it.

"Stop thinking the worst, Zil. Hell, don't think at all!" Autumn proclaimed like the devil's advocate she usually morphed into in strong opposition to Zillah's goody-goody conscience. She waved Zillah away in favor of a lovely specimen with broad shoulders and peach fuzz for hair. Only a hint of a tattoo swirled up his neck like black flames. He wore a mask but a wicked smile that held promise. Always a sucker for broad shoulders and tats, Autumn ground at him for a spell with the hedonic sounds thumping around them.

"Girl, you so crazy!" Zillah declared with the shake of her head.

"That's why you love me!" she shouted back with a playful wink.

Zillah retreated from the crowded dance floor alone to explore the other parts of the invitation-only private club. Up to this point, she heard the raunchy and frankly unbelievable stories from Autumn who visited the place before and of course swore her to secrecy due to the non-disclosure agreement. Neither woman could ever keep secrets from each other, and something so juicy Autumn could never keep to herself. What Zillah witnessed so far definitely set the place apart from a typical club. It also made her question once again what the heck she got herself mixed up in this time.

Soon all questions and doubts about where she was ceased, when she stumbled upon a section of the club where the music faded as did the sights from the dance floor. The thump of the bass remained the clearest sound heard or felt, and it reminded her of a heartbeat at this distance. The naked performers moved in-sync with it in what she could only describe as a live sex show.

In silence, a gathering of masked people like herself stood mesmerized by the passionate black and white couple before them who seemed oblivious to all. Some amongst the crowd groped themselves intimately as they watched. Zillah's mouth dropped open at the couple under the spotlight and the spectators who shamelessly made out with each other where they stood performing their own sort of sideshow beside the show. She fanned herself because it sure felt like it was getting hot up in there. Steamy!

The same man she eyed from the dance floor earlier must have wandered over to the live show and nodded in her direction. Zillah acknowledged him with a nod as she rubbed her neck, feeling more than a little uncomfortable watching the couples go at it. She looked from one pair to the next, putting their thang down feeling embarrassed that they all felt so comfortable doing that like right in front of everybody. Her eyes tore open for sure in disbelief that ordinary people were really doing this. She'd never be able to unsee it all. Never.

"This is just crazy!" Zillah said to herself with the shake of her head in the incredulity of what she saw.

More than once her vision trailed back to the masked man she noticed before dressed impeccably well in a suit that accentuated his body, moved with him, but did not in the least wear him. He flashed a smile at her with a nod again but also dangled a scarlet key from a scarlet keycard that reminded her of the red velvet invitation Autumn received inviting them to the private club tonight for their version of a masked ball. The masked man black pointed to the back rooms where Autumn revealed that more hijinks occurred much rowdier than seen so far.

Zillah turned immediately away from the stranger in her shock. Did that man actually want her to go into one of those scandalous backrooms with him? Her heart raced, and she was sure her face had to be as deep red as the walls of the club. Shaking her head, she realized her mistake in agreeing to come. Zillah was far out of her league. She should have never let Autumn talk her into this madness! Clearly, she needed to flee before it was too late.

Her best friend since grade school caught hold of her arm, and Zillah jumped surprised that the blonde was so near without her realizing it. The guy with the peach fuzz hair Autumn had been talking to was gone.

"And where do you think you're going?" Autumn questioned with a judgy lifted eyebrow. "Chickenin' out already, huh? Damn. I thought you'd at least give it an hour, Zil."

"I can't believe it!" Zillah nearly panted feeling appalled but excited at once despite herself.

"What? That you're gorgeous and that guy knows it?"

"I'm not some slut," Zillah complained to her friend with the ocean blue eyes.

"You so are, you liar."

"What?! Do I seriously look like one?" Zillah asked, worried as she touched her chest self-consciously.

Autumn shook her head but narrowed her eyes slyly. "Of course not, dummy. You're as classy as they come, but inside, I know there's an inner slut dying to get the hell outta there."

Zillah looked as if her friend just slapped her as her mouth dropped open. "No, there isn't!" she hissed.

Autumn waved her off with a snort because she definitely knew better about this. "As appalling as this club might be to your Christian upbringing, you're turned on by everything that's been going on in here since we arrived."

Zillah shook her head even as Autumn slung her arm across her shoulders and leaned her head against the side of hers. "And I know you wish you were her. I sure do. Damn! Would you look at that?" her friend commented in her ear with a knowing smile and pointed before them at the naked black woman draped on a shiny coal-black table she gripped with both hands. Her eyes were fixed to an Adonis of a man, tanned muscles flexing as he lifted her and her pivoting hips toward his big white cock. Their joint effort left them glistening in sweat. The woman's moans were soft but grew louder the faster he stuffed her with his thickness.

Autumn thumbed over to the masked man in the suit still eyeing them with interest. "And what if Mr. Sexy Pants over there can give you anything like that? A release like she's feeling right now? I know you're dying for it, aren't you?" she teased in her newest whisper. Zillah shook her head, trying not to look at him, but Autumn turned her head back toward him and asked, "What's wrong with that, huh? You're not a damn nun. What happens between two consenting adults is no one's business but you and him. House rules, remember?"

Zillah remembered when Autumn and she flashed their fancy velvet and lace invitations to be admitted below by security but needed to pass through the hot regular club called Hellion first. Down a well-guarded corridor, she'd been in dozens of times with Autumn and other friends for a girls night, in this instance the two of them they were allowed past a secured door far different than any she passed through in Hellion before.

In this new room that was not nearly as festive, men in pinstripe suits briefed them that they were privileged to be invited to an exclusive club for the evening. With that invitation, came select rules. First of them being the non-negotiable requirement of their signature to an actual and fully enforceable non-disclosure agreement.

_Geez, I hate lawyers_ , she thought with a snicker and roll of her eyes.

The document was freakin' thick! Zillah hadn't brought her reading glasses, yet wore contacts. Her friend insisted that lookin' cute meant ditching ole four eyes, a real mood killer. Autumn intended to stop only when they scored some hot guys. She refused to leave anything to chance and made sure they dressed in their sexiest threads.

Next came the full body scan for weapons and check for any electronic or recording devices including cameras. All were strictly prohibited at the Underground. Cell phones were allowed but must be turned off at all times. Otherwise, the guest risked confiscation of said device and expulsion from the club with a prompt lawsuit for breach of the nondisclosure agreement.

Adherence to those strict rules was a must; otherwise, they were not permitted to enter. Also, no patron was allowed to force another to do anything that caused discomfort or not agreed to under any circumstance in or around the club. Ever. Respect of each other's boundaries was encouraged and communicated openly. No meant no and was repeated throughout the briefing for some reason. Everything done at the club by and to members or guests would be consensual or not done at all.

"Anything goes," Zillah whispered at the sensory overload that crashed her senses since entering the club.

So far, everything her bestie gossiped about concerning this club was nothing but the truth. When people started going buck wild on the dance floor, hitting it from the front and back while dancing without shame, she thought her eyes might drop out of her head. The kicker though appeared to be the dress code. A few people spotted walked around in their best designed to attract, but just as many wore silk robes, bathrobes, pasties, speedos or were straight up in the buff. Oh, and masks, too ... what the heck?!

Autumn nodded with her agreement, "Right."

Zillah shook her head, wanting to deny it all, but deep inside, she guessed Autumn was right. She couldn't deny her avid curiosity in knowing what it felt like to be so free with her sexuality in the way her friend flaunted hers or any number of the other women she witnessed tonight. None viewed suffered any shame in taking whatever pleasure they wanted in which their partners seemed eager to give. Why should Zillah be any different?

This was a new millennium, after all. Now women talked about sex openly in music, on stage in standup comedy, on TV sitcoms and exercised it in movies. Some parts of the populace frowned on it, but not all. There was nothing wrong with enjoying sex for the pure act of it or having a little fun as long as you stayed safe using contraceptives and birth control. Zillah wasn't looking for a husband or felt her biological clock ticking because she wanted to get knocked up. What she wanted was simply a good time.

What was wrong with a little fling... a tryst? Everyone deserved to have one in a lifetime, right? To say by God, she did something crazy for once in her whole responsible life like experience a swinger club or whatever the Underground was in its entirety without judgment would not kill her. If anything, Zillah hoped the experience liberated her.

Autumn, who stood an inch taller than her, took advantage by holding her by the stiff shoulders and shaking her. "God, Zil, loosen up!" She turned her around to face the man who had not taken his eyes off them.

He stood tall and lean, just the type of man Zillah drooled over. His skin was dark olive, too, against the crisp white dress shirt he wore. At this distance and lighting, his hair appeared black and combed away from an angular face. Like theirs, a mask obscured many of his facial features, but the lower half of his impressive jaw was dusted with sexy dark facial hair around shapely dark pink lips.

Still at her ear, Autumn whispered boldly, "You need some dick..." Zillah could not help but look at the masked man's crotch and shook her head in the warm blood, rushing to her cheeks again. "Go get some," she encouraged still at Zillah's ear before swatting her on the ass and giving her a little shove of encouragement.

Zillah yelped in her shock at being struck so rudely, "Autumn!" She turned back to her friend. The woman merely offered her mischievous grin and beckoned in a wave to the man who still stared at them with marked interest.

"Hello," the deep rusty voice greeted at the back of Zillah's neck. He must have been a smoker at one time since the sound of it was gritty and sexy. She felt the heat of his breath on her and shivered but knew part of that reaction had everything to do with his voice alone. "I'm sorry, did I startle you?"

Zillah turned to face him and realized that he was taller than she thought in her gaze up at him and certainly more handsome up-close. Like...wow. Dark hair, skin, and eyes, he was exotic looking and his lips wicked situated around sexy short beard stubble. She swallowed as her throat dried up in the deeper breaths she took. He smelled of delicious spices.

All worked in conjunction to entice she thought, and it was working. Already Zillah swooned because once her eyes met his through the mask, all the air seemed to push out of her lungs. He reached a smooth hand to steady her, and that only made matters worse. His touch felt like a brand against her upper arm.

"Come with me," he said in a way that told her that she would obey without question.

At least her legs followed after him putting up no fight at all. She could not say why so thoroughly entranced by his allure, and it shocked her. This wasn't the sort of thing that happened to her.

Zillah Crawford did not swoon. She was sensible and not prone to be led by her emotions or libido. She looked before she leaped, always...but tonight, everything was different. Tonight behind her peacock mask, she could be anyone she wanted to be. She didn't have to be Zillah and could live out a fantasy and the most secret of her desires if she wanted to take the risk.

When Zillah looked back for her BFF in the last-ditch effort to grasp on to something sound before she drowned, she found the woman with two guys chatting her up now.

Of course. No help there.

Autumn gave her two thumbs up before returning her attention to the cute guys with broad shoulders that focused their attention on her. One even offered her a drink, which she gladly took. The quickest way to impress her was always in getting her a drink. Autumn drank so much it amazed all her coherence and the fact she never suffered alcohol poisoning.

Her friend approved of this man who approached Zillah. Great. Somehow the thought did not put her mind at ease. It ran a thousand miles a minute, and her breathing kept pace. Now Zillah would have to deal with the consequences.
Chapter Two

Zillah and the stranger entered the second room with the red door that he unlocked down a narrow but vacant red hall. He shut the door after them and flipped on a light after securing the door. The question became whether he did so to keep others out or her in. The scarlet key he held he slipped back into his pocket.

Zillah had no clue what to expect but this? "Wow."

The room, while having no windows, was simply a spectacle of decadence. No cheese-fest in here, or any place in the Underground so far. Someone put a lot of time and serious dough into the luxurious furnishings, and this room was no exception. It reminded her of a set for a period movie in Regency London for the BBC or Masterpiece Theater on PBS, her favorite.

Pink and white vertical-striped wallpaper covered the walls up to the crown molding. Over that were exquisite paintings of lovely ladies showcasing their empire silhouettes to emphasize their busts in thin gauzy dresses. A gorgeous multi-layered crystal chandelier hung overhead brightening the room with elegance. Across the way, a gas fire burned in a fireplace. Thick decorative rugs covered the floors of a crisscross design. The refined but massive canopy bed, a gorgeously sculpted heavy oak with sheer curtains surrounding its artistic posts appeared fit for a king.

Her company opened a dark wooden cabinet near and from it revealed an old record player from the 1940s maybe, which he switched on. A vinyl record already had been placed upon it that began to spin. The stranger gently placed the antique needle down on the vinyl. The sound coming from the record player was gentle strings that sounded very intimate and suspiciously like a Viennese waltz.

No other sound could be heard in the soundproof room she guessed that had terrific acoustics. No bass from the DJ filtered through from outside, or that of lots of people out there engaged in their epicurean shenanigans. It was as if the two of them stepped into another time and place and not some kinky club with hot-blooded strangers.

"Dance with me," he invited as he approached her. He began to sway to the music and offered his hands to her.

Smiling Zillah felt more at ease. She came to him and followed his moves. Taking his big hand in hers, she felt how he reached his arm around her to the exposed skin of her back. She embraced that same arm lightly like she learned after the many dance lessons insisted upon her because Dad believed it a great idea that she participate in the debutante ball thrown by his church when girls and boys turned 16. Zillah wanted no part of it preferring to stick her head in a book than force her to go out with a boy who didn't like her anyway. In some ways, she still felt just as awkward and dorky.

Her biggest cheerleader, Autumn, explained that she was a late bloomer. Those self-conscious days were long gone because Zillah was no longer a skinny knock-kneed waif. No more braces and nerdy thick glasses either. Even the lousy acne cleared up. By the time she entered college, Zillah was a whole new woman in appearance alone and needed to beat the guys off her with a stick considering she had no clue how to handle the rush of attention. Thank God, Autumn did, or she never would have made it through freshman year.

The cocktail dress worn tonight was the sexiest of her ensemble declared and approved by bestie. It had a conservative mock collar that Zillah loved, which buttoned from the back, yet it exposed her entire backside to the waist and then hugged all her curves reaching just to her knee.

The stranger touched the middle of her back, drawing her soft body against him. Zillah gasped at how warm he was, like the fireplace nearby, and very, very aroused as it brushed against her leg he wedged between hers when they skipped through the steps of a natural turn. She licked her lips again but noted how his eyes never failed to leave her face. They glittered like dark brown onyx with an intensity that made her breathing rush through her mouth.

Damn! How good this man smelled! Each inhale of spice and man made her want to devour him. They swayed to the festive music, and she forgot about everything around them, including where they were as he guided her with skill around the room. Zillah giggled at how much she enjoyed following him as they reversed direction.

Holding her close to him for a spell, he suddenly twirled her. He followed that by him dipping her at the end of the movement. The handsome stranger surprised her with how well he moved with smooth confidence, yet he had done the same on the dance floor with several women throughout the night while she and Autumn danced only with each other.

When the stranger rose her back to an upright position, his head lowered and his lips barely reached hers. Zillah ached with anticipation she didn't even know was there. Her pulse leaped at her throat, and her eyes were lost in the intensity of his. She expected the masked man would kiss her until he didn't. All at once, he released her. He turned from her leaving her there to stand a little unsettled and breathing in a pant that was not all that relieved.

What was wrong with her? She didn't do this! Zillah certainly didn't go off into private rooms with people she didn't know to do God knew what... But, she did know what would be done in this very room as she was sure had been done hundreds of times before. Zillah shook her head, but deep down, she understood there was no denying she wasn't any different for wanting to be satisfied sexually by this very man. The realization only made her more uneasy in the brazen hussy she'd become.

"Drink?" he asked, breaking into her argument with herself that she was losing fast.

"Yes!" she said almost too eagerly and could have strangled herself when she noticed him across the room in a different dark wooden cabinet.

Way to go, Zillah, at playing it cool. You sound desperate.

I am desperate. _Ugh_. What a dork! She wanted to slap herself on the forehead but refrained from the physical admonishment.

She heard the pop of a champagne bottle by what looked like a bar held in another wooden cabinet that towered a little bit above his more than average height. He filled two flutes with golden liquid then crossed the space to where she still stood, holding the bedpost to steady herself. A cozy tan couch before the fireplace and a number of pillows situated on the floor before it looked inviting, but neither of these images comforted her. Standing felt safer even as her knees wanted to knock together in the sudden nervousness she endured.

The stranger clinked her glass before handing it off to her. "To you."

Zillah drank the sweet chilled bubbly and closed her eyes when she downed it all seemingly in one gulp. It was delicious! She dropped her glass as she gasped in her clumsiness, but the masked man surprised her in catching the glass before it hit the floor. Man! He had quick reflexes. He settled her glass and his safely out of the way. He only took one sip of his, and his smile grew where she noted the appearance of deep dimples in his cheeks when he faced her once more.

He chuckled lightly. "No need to be nervous, my peacock. Hurting you does not factor in my plans at all for us."

"Who's nervous?" Zillah questioned in a shaky voice that sounded off even to her own ears.

"I've wanted you from the moment you entered the club." He admired her from her head to her shiny unpainted toes. "The way you move. You are stunning. I've not been able to keep my eyes off you." He touched one of the warm brown curls that tumbled from the pinned French roll frosted with strawberry blond highlights and light auburn lowlights.

"Goes for your hands, too," she murmured after gulping down her dry throat and backing into the bedpost to keep her steady. While she felt only the hint of a buzz from the champagne, Zillah was still very sober. Maybe too much so. It wasn't fair. At least she could have used drunkenness as an excuse for what was to come.

The stranger followed her since he didn't stop his fingertips from running up and down her toned arm, creating delightful gooseflesh. Her breathing rushed in a pant she was unable to control.

"Let me show you some of what this club can offer in the way of pleasure."

"So you know I'm new to all this, huh?" she asked as she looked up into his intense eyes and somehow believing everything he said because of the heat and lust filling them without inhibition. Her own response to it was enough for her to squeeze her thighs together because she believed the reaction was not just at her nipples hardening but the ache tugging deep at her belly.

The dimples pressed in his cheeks as he smiled mysteriously. She nibbled her lower lip at the sight that made her melt where she stood, and he dared step closer as if sensing it. His thumbs gently caressed her jaw. "A beauty like yours, I would remember."

"So you come here often." It sounded cliché but rung true.

"Not as often as I would like, but on occasion when my business allows."

"When in the mood, then?" Zillah asked in curiosity without helping it.

"With the constant hope of meeting someone like you."

"So you say to all the girls to make them melt before you."

He took her by the chin when she cast her eyes away from his. He turned her head back toward him with her gasp. His hold was not enough to hurt her but definitely enough to get her attention back on him. "I say what I mean. Like me, this place has no room for deception. Only those who are honest with themselves and comfortable with their deepest desires being realized and met." He released her and stepped away two steps as he stared at her intently.

Her slight smile fell away, for she heard offense in his tone. She ventured to follow him a step as she released the safety of the bedpost. "Hey, I didn't mean to offend you."

"You can make it up to me."

"How?" she asked with her eyebrows meeting.

"On your knees."

Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. Zillah could summon no response to that command. No one talked to her like this. Not even during her exploratory college days. Come to think of it, those were tame compared to Autumn's racy stories and ways, and innocent compared to the virile man in front of her staring at her right now with dark lust. Zillah could not say that she experienced where a man looked at her that way before.

"I've seen how you've been eyeing my crotch time and again, peacock," he said silkily.

She looked down at it involuntarily and then snatched her gaze away to the ceiling. She whistled. Shaking her head in denial, Zillah stepped away from his hypnotic pull. "No."

"Yes. Why fight it? I see the truth as you must. You don't want to."

She snapped her gaze back at him. What a mistake that was. The heat of it was engulfing. "I'm not fighting anything."

The stranger ignored her and announced, "You want to know how hard I am for you right now." He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then promptly unzipped his pants but did not unbutton them. Instead, he let his hands fall at his sides casually. "Have a look at how much I want you then," he purred with gritty seduction. His eyes glistened with need, but he made no further move. "I dare you."

"You dare me?" she blanched with her arms crossed in front of her now. "I am not afraid of you, nor do I like being manipulated."

"I dare you to let go of your preconceived notions of right and wrong."

She waved her hand at him and shook her head firmly. "You don't know me. I don't have preconceived notions!"

"Prove it."

Zillah laughed uneasily, attempting bravado for better or worse. Daring her was the worst kind of temptation. Those words always led to trouble. "I don't need to prove anything," she said more to convince herself than him.

"If you're not afraid to satisfy your curiosity right now, then come," he commanded in the same gritty seductive tone he used on her all night. "Kneel before me. Stroke me."

For reasons she could not understand, Zillah found herself obeying his rusty command for in the last bit of it the stranger conveyed his deepest desire. Out of all the stunning women he could have chosen, this handsome stranger wanted her. Not Autumn who, in her opinion, was so much prettier than her. When together, the guys almost always went after her.

Perhaps the unguarded need burning in his eyes struck a chord within Zillah. He dared her, and something inside her ached to respond, for the more she studied his eyes she could not deny they mirrored the pent desire she felt in an instant with him. His voice too was so darn sexy! That couldn't have been the booze talking, right? Zillah panted out of control all the way to her knees before him but didn't take her eyes from him until she sat facing his crotch tenting out before her in invitation.

This was happening, and she was letting it. Once again, she caved to the dare. The temptation would not be averted this time, and she wondered if she really regretted any of that in the excitement coursing through her.

Slut.

Getting caught up tonight like this was not something Zillah anticipated as she squeezed her thighs together in the heat of desire centered just there. The truth resided in her own body's response.

Some willpower, huh?

Zillah bit her lower lip for here the stranger smelled of the rawest spice and wholly male. She would not deny that she was attracted to him, or more to the point that she wanted him. No doubt existed in her mind that he wanted her, too. Had the terms of surrender been determined? No more fighting herself but giving in to her base desire that this man looked to fulfill if she let him? There was something so hot about that idea, and she felt heedless of the burn from this position of submission.

The last threads of doubt surfaced in her mind for one last fight for sanity. Zillah could back away, lie to herself, that she didn't want this moment to happen as she panted in her excitement. No one blackmailed her. She could get up and walk out right now. Deep down though she understood that being in this grand room with him right now was where she most wanted to be.

Curiosity ruled her hands that lifted to the bulge swelling at the front of his slacks. He hissed with the flash of even white teeth and clench of his jaw for he saw her debating until at last a decision was made.

She gasped up at him with his hands still hanging at his sides. His eyes blazed with need and longed for her not to stop. Her exploring hands found the stranger hard. He grew in his apparent lust for her. Did she really have so much power?

Her hands traced him outside his slacks in amazement. Soon that was not enough to merely hear him hiss in the deep breaths he took. Zillah ventured within the unzipped opening to feel the expanse of his cotton underwear. He hissed again at her hand, rubbing the outline of him until at last, she reached beyond his underwear. They were skin to warm skin. Frustrated in the restriction that remained, Zillah sprung him free to his groan and delight. Her eyes widened on his thick head and shaft.

"What a cock," she marveled at handling him with both her soft hands even as pre-cum slipped out of him. Zillah used it as lube to rub him faster and rhythmically up and down his impressive shaft without ceasing.

"Stand up," he squeezed out after enduring the wonderful but torturous moments that strung together far too long.

She obliged but did not release his cock from her hands. They rubbed him until he was stiff with veins protruding in a vigor that amazed her. Evidently, Zillah did have quite a bit of power over his cock as she smiled at the knowledge in how it pleased her. His moans told her he liked everything she did to it.

Without complaint from her, he reached to her curvy sides and hiked up her dress. In the process, he revealed the sexy black garter holding up her sheer black stockings along with tiny black thong panties. His breath caught in his throat.

"Beautiful..." he complimented in awe.

Rising his hand to his mouth, he licked his fingertips and lowered the same hand inside her panties to find her wet already. Zillah groaned at the tease of his circling fingers and widened her stance, inviting him to explore further. He gained better access to her goodies that craved his touch as much as he wanted hers. His roaming finger coated in her wetness slammed into her opening after rimming it gently for a time. Zillah gasped with a sharp moan in the shock of pleasure that took her. Her knees wanted to buckle under the wonderful onslaught, yet she stayed upright somehow.

The stranger answered in kind with the sweep of his mouth over hers in teasing but gentle kisses to start. Her hands that stroked his cock the entire time now seized his smooth straight hair, and that changed the aggression of the kiss from teasing to devouring passion. His flavor was amazing, sweet, so much better than the champagne taken not long ago. He tasted of lust and purest seduction.

Opening more of her mouth for that sweetness, she welcomed his tongue to explore her. Both moaned with need, exchanging brief swipes in their alternating French kiss. Their hands quickly undressed one another flowing along the same wavelength without further pretense where only their masks remained secure. He attempted to grab for hers, yet she shied away with the shake of her head effectively breaking the string of kisses they engaged.

"No...leave it," Zillah muttered wanting anonymity. For some reason, the idea of it heightened the moment for her. She tried her best to breathe normally, but could not catch it. Instead, she backed onto the bed, climbing it with the nibble of her bottom lip.

Clenching his jaw, he nodded as if understanding all she did not say. The stranger followed whose body flexed with the distinctive cut of lean muscles. He did not remove his mask either but elected to leave it in place like hers.

Her head fell against the soft pillow with her arms up at her sides. The bed was firm and smelled of fresh linens, which she hadn't expected. Her pant she could no longer control and shut her eyes for a moment to the excitement that ran rampant. She gasped when she felt his smooth hands trace her legs lightly starting at her ankles and worked their way up to her knees. Raising her legs still clad in sheer stockings and feet in sexy heels, he spread her toned thighs wide to have a better look at her tidy garden.

Smiling, he angled his body comfortably between hers. "So beautiful," he whispered with reverence she thought. Again, she nibbled her lower lip so glad she continued her routine maintenance of waxing herself smooth despite the fact she had no boyfriend to appreciate the effort.

The treat of his tongue upon her pedals forced new moans from her throat. It was so welcomed, including the visit of his fingers that played with her at the same time. Her own fingers flowed over the dark head between her legs. She dug into his scalp when her heat seeped from her at his delectable foreplay. Her sharp moans announced the collide of her walls to his attentive efforts.

"E-eee-enough!" she stammered as her whole body shook uncontrollably. No matter how she tried to fight it, the contractions overtook her in a pleasure she had never known before. She panted, clutching her trembling legs close to her body as he pulled away, and watched her reaction to his skill. Slowly the masked man backed away from her to collect a condom from his suit and then returned to his knees before her.

When her tremors lessened, he spread her lovely thighs again. Still panting but with more excitement than before, Zillah watched him sheath his hard muscle standing erect as it pointed toward her with protection. He lowered himself over her, admiring her lovely curves. The pads of his fingers lightly traced her from her neck, down between her full breasts and were followed by his kiss.

She gasped when his fingers traced her flat navel. Her pant increased in anticipation of his fingers, drawing lower to her garden where his thumb played with her again. Without her permission, her body trembled in sensitivity and so much pleasure. Her eyes met his in a consuming flame when the stranger lowered in what she thought would be a kiss. He hovered above her when a gasping cry fell from her lips at how deep he went in that first dive after pressing himself inside her tight opening. It stunned her for there was no tenderness in how he took to her the second or third time in his lust or how she clawed his strong shoulders so lost in the sensation of his claiming.

Her face frowned at how good he felt bending and forcing her body to conform to his hardness. Zillah hooked her leg around him with each deep thrust wanting him to go faster. She didn't mind a little pain at how truly big he was each time he pushed his way inside her. With immediacy, she needed the ache of desire soothed. No matter how she tried to meet him to feel him fully because she had not yet, she could not get him to speed up. There was purpose to each thrust that filled her more and more each time, but slow, deep.

His control ran like steel, and it was maddening. Nothing teasing her more in her experience, than how he made her crave him. She ached for him to plunder her body with urgency. His slow pace drove her wild in the sensations conjured over every ridge and vein within.

"Take me," she panted with excitement that was beyond her control, and she didn't care.

His sensual lips at her neck and his wicked fingers at her hard nipples the masked man did as she wished. He took her repeatedly, deeply, but slowly. Engulfed in a lingering inferno, Zillah could not control how she combusted beneath him. Her sweet moan of release praised his prowess while clutching his sweaty muscles in the throes of the collide. With a moan of his own, the stranger shuddered in his own release at the last thrust into her tightness, satisfying not only his lust but also hers.
Chapter Three

Drake Lachlan, President and CEO of Cadda Group, in between taking relevant calls stared periodically at Zillah Crawford, the name given for the woman before his desk, according to the receptionist. The young investment banker insisted on seeing him even though he had no time that week for a meeting. The old contact with Community MT Financial had retired.

Unfortunate. A kindly old man, Rich Martin, had been excellent in his care for one of the company's minor subsidiaries. He and Drake understood each other very well: never waste Drake's time with bullshit. If he had something that would benefit the interest of the company, Rich would suggest it and nothing else. In the end, both knew what they could do for each other.

This woman here before his desk in one of the most influential cities in the world, Washington, DC, was the fifth of such associates to parade in his office wasting his time. Since losing Rich, Community attempted miserably to maintain the relationship between their two businesses. It wasn't working.

Cadda Group was a huge client now that it had taken over the private equity company Webster & Falon of which offices Drake currently occupied for his headquarters on Connecticut Avenue at Dupont Circle. Perhaps losing Cadda's subsidiary business, one of the Community's best clients would have been too devastating, which wasn't surprising in the changing economic climate every business existed in today.

The woman before him did have one thing going for her, admirable curves she graced in a conservative grey suit. Youthful, she wore almost black hair with medium auburn streaks in a high but neat bun, tiny eyeglasses, and so very little if any make-up. Humph. Drake didn't know if he liked that last part much. More make-up might have brought more attention to her decent bone structure and attractive full lips. He imagined that she went for a more natural look on purpose. It gave her a fresh-faced look that wasn't unattractive precisely, but more ... plain.

While he expected someone, perhaps a bit older this final time around, plain or not Drake was not displeased to have someone fairer to look at rather than the other four geezers that preceded her. Since all struck out with him, Drake guessed the managing partner at Community in his desperation threw the young lady at him in a last effort to woo his business.

Her pitch bored him really for it was no different than what he heard from the other four people from her company. When Drake considered dismissing her like the rest, she stopped speaking. In fact, she looked to get more comfortable in the guest chair as she merely stared at him. Leaning back into the guest chair, she crossed lovely legs dressed in stockings.

When did women stop doing that? Wearing stockings? Drake wondered. Except in porno, of course, it was so rare to see them in women's attire nowadays. A shame. Didn't they have any idea how much of a turn-on they were? Perhaps he was too old now and out of fashion? Perish the thought!

Drake decided that he was merely old school, but to see a woman so young wearing them? A rarity indeed, but appreciated at least from his standpoint. Nothing to him screamed feminine more than stockings, and Drake loved everything about females besides. Their softness, their beauty, and the way they felt at the moment of orgasm. Loved it all! But, of course, he needed to pay closer attention to his guest and not get distracted again.

The woman pushed her small framed eyeglasses up her cute pointy nose looking completely relaxed. Drake could not imagine how she could be as close to losing his interest that was only furtive due to his focus on emails, phone calls, and her rather appealing curves. The other four men from her company while assertive would have been squirming in their chairs by now as he looked to them with the same cold indifference he did her. Not this one though, since his cold stare appeared to have little effect if at all. He understood how intimidating he could be to his own staff, but for some reason, it had no impact on her either.

All the more intriguing, Drake thought fleetingly that there was something so familiar about that look in her amazing light eyes against the glow of her latte skin. He was unsure if her eyes were a pale blue or pale green. They seemed deceiving just as his initial impression of her had been. It was not often he misinterpreted things.

"Mr. Lachlan, tell me how to not waste your time?" she asked without blinking as she stared at him directly once it seemed she had his undivided attention.

Even as they held this staring contest for several more seconds, she failed to look away, and neither did he. He liked that. She could hold her ground then.

"Frankly, Mrs. or Ms.?" Drake began as the first thing he's said directed to her since she entered his office.

"It's _Miss_ Crawford, sir," she reminded him without offense, but there was cool reserve in her tone.

He nodded, appreciating the clarification of her marital status because he saw no rings on any of her slim fingers whose nails did not even carry paint. Fascinating. She did have long elegant nails though, clean and well-rounded, again feminine. They deserved color. "That's perhaps the best question you've asked me, Miss Crawford, in so many minutes and why unlike your predecessors, I will afford you a little bit more of my precious time," he announced in the longest statement spoken to her so far.

The woman looked to shiver as if she felt a sudden chill, and her eyes seemed to take on a thoughtful distance. Curious. When he thought to ask after this reaction to his statement, they were interrupted when the blonde receptionist knocked and re-entered his office. "It's time for your next meeting, sir."

"Tell them to wait," he said impatiently without looking to the receptionist. He failed to take his eyes off his interesting guest who regarded him thoughtfully still. "This meeting is not yet concluded."

With a look of surprise, the receptionist blinked in her hesitation from him to the investment banker. "Oh. Right, sir." She closed the door softly after her with a slight frown.

Drake tossed the silver pen he held onto his desk and turned fully to his guest as she acquired his full attention for the first time during their meeting. "Impress me, Miss Crawford."

She removed her tiny eyeglasses she walked in wearing and closed her leather portfolio, which she returned to the matching soft leather briefcase resting against the cloth chair she sat in. Hmmm, he thought, her appearance improved marginally when she regarded him with those sharp eyes of hers.

"Whatever your needs, we can fulfill as we have done faithfully for the last five years. It is known that you have recently acquired a private equity firm to solidify your position in the area. Let us help put together a package that will strengthen that subsidiary in the way we currently do the other so that you may sell shares to boost your profits and provide needed capital to invest in the weakness your acquisition exploited."

It was his turn to sit back and really stare at her. This woman was not the mousy youth he first believed. No ... Miss Crawford was stealthy, and he liked it. The twinkle caught in her pale eye and a hint of a smile along her full lips dressed in simple, clear lip-gloss enlightened him that she liked to play. "You are well informed."

She fired back without missing a beat or blinking. "Nothing slips my notice I assure you. It's what my clients come to expect from my services."

A confident response but without sounding like she bragged on herself. Her tone gave her a professional yet resolute quality he appreciated, not seeming to offer bravado or something false. Miss Crawford merely stated a fact as she saw it with practiced finesse.

Drake inquired, "Tell me why you want my account?"

"You have been a loyal customer at our firm for several years under the auspicious holding you manage in this area."

He lifted a dark eyebrow because while he did not know much about her, he did know one thing for sure. "But you have not worked for Community long."

"My CV is all in order, sir, and should be in your email box along with a list of my other clients as references for your review but just in case here's the hardcopy."

She stood and removed her CV or curriculum vitae, highlighting her experience and education in more detail from her briefcase and handed it to him before she retook her seat. Drake nodded, liking that she seemed prepared.

"While it is true I have not worked for Community MT Financial very long, I am very familiar with the Washington Metropolitan area and am known throughout for the great work I've done to help my clients achieve their goals. It is a reputation of a decade built on solid results, from knowing the right people and having the right vision to give my clients exactly what they need."

The hint of a smile surfaced at the corners of his mouth at that well-versed spiel. So, Miss Crawford's greenness must have been a false perception on his part, for sure, which was not something he commonly admitted. Ten years, huh? He prided himself on being more observant and a better judge of people than that. The CV warranted a closer inspection for the new player to the game he found before him quite unexpectedly. So much for his boredom now...

Well played, little lady. Well played. It deserved a handclap, but he refrained from the act.

Drake stood checking that smile of amusement in favor of cold indifference when facing her. As he did, Miss Crawford also stood if a bit slower to pick up her soft leather briefcase of a camel color but strangely carried no purse.

"I see," he said as he broke eye contact and clapped his hands together with finality. "Well, I do have another meeting to attend to." Drake walked around his large desk as he buttoned the front of his dark blue plaid single-button suit. He stopped in front of her closer than he would under similar circumstances just to see her reaction to his infringement on her personal space.

Nothing? No pullback of her shoulders and torso, step back of her entire body, or widening of the eyes in surprise? No change in expression at all to display discomfort or displeasure? Dammit, she was a cool cookie! Miss Crawford simply stood still looking at him directly as she had been for the last part of their meeting.

Drake stared into those pale eyes that failed to hide behind the unattractive eyeglasses stashed with the portfolio thinking that they were honest and the palest blue he had ever seen. Almost colorless, he thought, and so much like a different woman... a blonde who wore a mask of peacock feathers he met not so long ago. Quite striking and unusual on that mysterious woman from the club, who lingered still on his thoughts.

Regardless, the more Drake studied Miss Crawford before him, the more he liked what he saw. Simple silver studs in her ears. Conservative grey suit with a white blouse underneath and smoky high heels that showed off athletic calves. She worked out. Good girl. It showed she cared about her body.

"Expect another appointment to be scheduled by my office for us to speak further soon. Bring your ideas, as I am interested in hearing what more you have to say."

Miss Crawford tilted her head at him with the lift of her dark eyebrow already slightly higher than the other, and said with sweetness, "Certainly not more than I will be to offer them I guarantee."

He gestured toward his office door, and she walked before him, giving him the opportunity to note the delightful sway of her curvy hips. There was something about the confident way she moved, he found familiar. Shaking his head, he sighed and opened his door for her.

"Until our next meeting, Miss Crawford."

She held out her hand with an even smile that dazzled him and changed her whole look. Drake needed to take a deeper breath because she stole it as he held her warm hand in his own for a handshake. It was not his imagination that this woman was not nervous at all as he initially thought and perhaps that had been her ploy all along.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lachlan. I look forward to seeing you again soon." Miss Crawford turned and walked away. He could not help his gaze following her, knowing for sure that he had met her somewhere before, regardless of the fact that no recognition registered in her eyes.

Shutting his door, Drake went back to his desk. He looked to his email inbox, and sure enough, he found her CV sent to him by her boss Albert Grayson who apologized for the last four people assigned but hoped that Zillah Crawford would be more to his liking. Drake had not even bothered looking at the email because he was convinced that he would keep his current banking relationship with JP Morgan Chase and spread its dealings with the new acquisition, but now he wondered if he wouldn't mind switching things up especially if it afforded him the opportunity of seeing the lovely Miss Crawford again.

According to the CV, her experience was mostly in DC with some internships in New York early on with some top-notch investment firms. It was easy to see she was an up and comer in her business career. Ambitious and learned, she graduated from Howard University magna cum laude with a bachelor's degree in business and management, and a master's degree from American University for finance. Already, several million-dollar clients had been brokered.

Drake forwarded the email with her CV to his own people for a proper background check to find out the other essential information he liked to know of anyone he chose to do business or pleasure with. Nothing in her CV shed any light on the feeling of something familiar about the light-skinned African American woman with lovely curves and amazing eyes. Perhaps the background check might yield a clue.

In two weeks, Miss Crawford had been the only distraction from the woman of mystery met in the Underground. His boredom waned seriously when he laid eyes on the beauty wearing the peacock feather mask who kept company with a slender golden blonde. The later woman was not new to the club and made her rounds there on other occasions.

The peacock with her warm brown hair and strawberry blond highlights was new and everything he sought for the night. Fresh, submissive, and hot as hell every time she turned her bared back on him. Already he felt the blood shooting to his dick without much room in his slim-fit suit for expansion of that sort. His best friend Leo admitted the same lust irking him as he stood next to him at the bar, but for the peacock's golden blonde friend.

"Ole John Thomas needs some air, eh?" his friend teased while glancing in the same direction he did at the newcomers to the party. "Mine sure does."

"Maybe," Drake replied after he cleared his throat that was still scratchy after his cold. He was too fixated on the woman he wanted to pay much attention to what his friend talked about.

"You should go chat her up. See where it goes," he whispered to him after sipping his dry martini. "You know the fit bird's totally your game."

"Yeah and not yours," Drake replied without looking away from the woman in the peacock mask painted green and blue along with the same colored feathers like the bird.

"Nope, but her friend the tart is though. Uhmm-hmmm."

Drake glanced to his friend, who was also blond but a paler shade than the woman he admired. His eyes were a verdant green that always sent the women melting. Leo would have said that something else was like his British accent for example or a lower part of his anatomy, but Drake knew the truth.

"I bet you can't shag her in one of those private rooms." Leo gestured to the rooms with his drink in his hand before taking another sip.

Drake offered an amused smile with the press of dimples while sipping his cognac. "Oh, my friend, you know better than making such a bet with me. You're gonna lose every time."

"So what'll it be, wanker? You have the stones for a little bet, do ya?"

He finished his cognac and settled the empty glass on the bar. "My stones are massive, and I'll take that bet and counter with whether or not you'll be successful with the golden-haired friend. Loser pays 100 grand to the charity of his choosing."

Following his friend's lead, Leo finished his martini. "Make it cool a mil, and you're on."

They shook on it and got to work. Drake needed no motivation, but there was nothing like a bet to get his competitive juices flowing. He pulled his peacock's black thong panties from the center drawer of his office desk and sniffed them as proof of his bet fulfilled. Damn. They still smelled like her, and it made his dick throb in his slacks even now as he adjusted himself due to the weight of his erection.

Drake wished that he hadn't dozed after the lovely romp in the Regency Room with his peacock. Never before had he connected with someone the way he did with her and actually felt comfortable enough to fall asleep snuggling her near. Strange in that he'd never been much of a snuggler or one to linger after orgasm. The resounding disappointment greeting him when he woke alone with a start to the strange room caught him off-guard. All that Drake had left of her were her sexy panties.

Searching around the club, he asked if anyone had seen his peacock, but no one saw the right one. When he caught up with his friend Leo at the bar sipping another martini, he knew the man struck out with the golden blonde. Drake couldn't see how because the woman looked easier than a Bieber groupie, but when Leo elaborated, it made more sense. Apparently, two guys carried her away to a private room before he could make his move. Shortly thereafter, she emerged flushed with mussed hair and promptly vacated the premises with her friend the peacock.

So Leo was none too pleased to admit he lost the bet and needed to cough up one million bucks to Drake's charity of choice. He also saw the panties and noted how flushed Drake was from the sex engaged that left him hungrier than ever. The peacock gave him the release he really needed by how much he smiled and wanted to find her to repeat the performance.

Drake chuckled in amusement at himself in the memory and the fact he still held on to the peacock's sexy panties. When the receptionist knocked upon his door again, he stashed them back in his center drawer and shut it promptly. She reentered his office with a tentative smile. "Sir, are you ready for your next appointment?"

He nodded and sighed, feeling his fresh resolve descending. However, it did nothing for the hard-on brought on by the memory of the peacock's beauty from the Underground. He would have to suffer through it, in the hope of procuring a suitable distraction until then. Some idea of who would be able to fit the bill in a crunch surfaced.

Good timing, too. He received a text that morning from Sabrina of her return to the States. Before she had taken in the historical sights of Castile. The news linked her with some international soccer star until she grew bored with him. Sabrina always did become bored quickly. Like Drake, she was never satisfied. She would not turn him away regardless if he charmed her well.

With a sigh of relief at such luck for a resolution to his immediate predicament, he responded, "Yes; send him in, Marcia."

Chapter Four

"Oh my God," Zillah whispered with the shake of her head and pondered the day she was having as she walked out of her client's office on New York Avenue near the Convention Center.

The sun hung low in a partly cloudy sky and rush hour traffic was in full swing. Thankfully, that was the last meeting of the day and was not as difficult as the others. Zillah believed that the firm could help the clients procure some additional assets that might help them improve their growth. She had to draft some proposals and would be in touch with them sometime next week.

For the remainder of the afternoon, the shadow of her meeting with Mr. Lachlan lingered. Zillah fixated on how she lost the Cadda Group account. She was so hungry for it, though. Shoot! She all but begged her boss, Mr. Grayson, to allow her to prove herself by taking on the account her colleagues struck out on repeatedly.

Tough clients were her specialty. Zillah could win over anyone and would succeed. She needed it. None of her contacts yielded her any new opportunities in over a month. What a dry spell!

In the past, she found a way to bring those most hard-nosed negotiators around to her way of thinking. Besides, when Zillah wanted something this badly, she was not prone to giving up. And, she wanted this client. Needed it.

Her failure really began to get her down. Community MT paid her for results, and she definitely felt like she had not delivered. While Zillah did make a favorable base salary, her commission was where she stood to rake in the bank.

Landing the whale of all clients changed things in significant ways. The Cadda Group account would open doors for her. Huge ones. Zillah had big clients before but nothing as complex as Cadda who were involved in all kinds of businesses since moving their headquarters to the DC area from Philadelphia with their newest acquisition.

If she could reel it in along with the sum of its parts or more precisely the shrewd Mr. Drake T. Lachlan running it all, then she'd have not only the respect of her employer. Zillah would also have a good chance for promotion next quarter, which ultimately she wanted to break her right through into the six-digit pay scale. Community MT Financial, established locally, was growing fast with her right along with it. Cadda would push them both onto the next level with other competitors on a more global scale.

With no more appointments for the day, Zillah rubbed her neck while raising her arm to hail a Diamond taxi she saw coming. When one pulled in front of her, she got in and immediately told it to take her to the office downtown on 13th and L Streets so that she could get a little work done and plan her day tomorrow. She thought about maybe getting some exercise in too, but figured today she couldn't manage it. Exhaustion made her lean back in the backseat of the taxi and sigh. Her brain still compared her many appointments to the main one concerning Cadda Group.

While immensely nervous and tense on the inside during the awkward meeting with Mr. Lachlan, on the outside, she was cooler than Cool Whip. Zillah knew CMT's products well, yet she could see how bored Mr. Lachlan was at having heard this already four times before her arrival. His constant sighing and failure to even turn his body toward her or look at her meant dismissal imminent if she couldn't turn things around fast. She was determined that he wouldn't get rid of her so effortlessly as the others.

Sure, Zillah nearly begged the receptionist Marcia to see the president and CEO of Cadda Group in between his meetings just to introduce herself, but Zillah expected that Drake Lachlan who looked much younger than she thought for some reason, would at least look at her during that meeting. _Sheesh_. Instead, the cold man who could not have been much older than herself, ignored her in favor of his email or a phone call he needed to take. That whole short time slotted for her Zillah felt like an auctioneer held to a timer so that she could get her pitch out in a hurry. Pure craziness! Clearly, Mr. Lachlan made up his mind not to listen to anything she came to say, and she did far too much talking anyway.

That was it! Zillah decided to change her game plan. Mr. Lachlan wanted to play. Fine. Flirtation entered the equation, and suddenly new opportunities abounded. Eye contact at the very least from him. Men could be so predictable no matter the age when it came to a little smile of sweetness even if she meant none of it toward that cold and rude fish. Zillah wished that she thought of it sooner, but realized it was always the best weapon she wielded and should be a last resort. Maintaining a careful balance while remaining professional was a constant challenge.

Entirely manipulative? Maybe, but hell, Mr. Lachlan left her little choice. It was that or lose the freakin' whale. To hell with that! Not to worry, Zillah had no intended whatsoever of sleeping with Mr. Lachlan. God no! He was not her type. Arrogant, cold, and rude. No thanks. Besides that, such gross negligence on her part in getting involved with a client was worse than dating a co-worker. Unprofessional to the maximum, she never would be able to look at herself in the mirror.

A player in the game of wills, Zillah was. Over the years she saw how unscrupulous actions could ruin careers, and she never planned to be on the receiving end of such a scandal. She would use every other weapon at her disposal to gain access to a client or to keep him or her. The buck stopped at exchanging sexual favors. She was no whore walking although Autumn seemed to believe Zillah was recruited for the team two weeks ago at the Underground. _Ugh_. Yes, Zillah liked sex like any other healthy human on the planet but was never casual about it.

_Oh, yeah?_ The sarcastic voice chimed in that she hated because it always had to be right.

_Yeah._ Zillah challenged but knew well she already lost.

And, what about with that completely hot and tall stranger you keep dreaming and masturbating about every night straight since meeting him at the Underground backroom?

Her eyes swelled because she definitely didn't want to be thinking of that now and covered her eyes. _Huh? I don't know what you're talking about?_

Sounding satisfied the sarcastic know-it-all voice said, _Can't lie to yourself. What about that, huh?_

Okay. You got me.

Zillah held an exception there. She was single. For the last three months since breaking up with Peter when he confessed to cheating on her with a pregnant ex-girlfriend, she threw herself into work. Of course, by Autumn's estimation, that was what caused her to lose Peter in the first place. Zillah was career-driven and ambitious; she neglected her man. What did she expect? Sure, it wasn't cool Peter banged an ex who he knocked up, but he had needs she couldn't fulfill so he found someone who would. Prick.

Autumn dared her to cut loose when showing her the exclusive invitation to the mysterious Underground, a private club that only a select few ever were privileged to experience. She knew well how such a challenge always got Zillah going. No one ever dared her and expected her not to do it. She'd do it, and regret it later. And, so she fell in Autumn's trap of getting her to go out to the private club. Her best girl dared her to enjoy the fruits of what the club could do for her. Autumn knew the Underground would be just the ticket to get Zillah out of her rut and jumpstart her dating again. First things first, the club would help her relinquish all that ailed her.

The experiment, as Zillah chose to look at it, opened her up to new experiences. Under any normal circumstances in the rules she established for herself, she never mixed her business with her pleasure. Talk about messy. _Yikes!_ Of course, Zillah never considered that some of those masked people in the private club two weeks ago could have been clients or potential clients.

_Ugh._ Okay... she didn't think too hard about that at all. Well beyond her control at this point anyway. The core of the issue was Zillah never mixed her private and professional lives. They remained separate and messy on their own. Neither needed help from the other to make them any more complicated than they already were.

It went without saying she never dated people from work either. Not to say others were not somehow successful at it, namely Autumn. Dating people from work made things uncomfortable as well as complicated especially if they were colleagues and highly competitive as Zillah had been once with Jack in the first job she ever took in banking as a sales rep. The relationship went sour fast due to Jack's jealousy getting in the way. As a senior rep who worked there over five years, he resented the increasing number of new clients Zillah brought in over a short period. It also grew worst when she compounded the number of products she sold to them each month ranking her employee of month multiple times for the bank in the first year or two.

Jack morphed into a real douche-bag, preferring to gossip about how cold she was in bed, and sleeping around with the other girls at work who felt sorry for him. Behind her back, more than once Zillah heard his derogatory comments about her. She broke up with the childish jackass and elected to be the bigger person. Zillah left the bad situation altogether even though she excelled at the job. The additional aggravation of Jack's unprofessionalism wasn't worth it.

So that became rule one: never date men from work. Period. Zillah could make all the friends she wanted, but she would never have a romantic relationship with anyone from the same company again.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true, now was it?

She admitted that there were exceptions to everything. For example, there was that one time she dated that cutie Wyatt from Morgan Stanley. Anyway, he was in acquisitions while she was a financial analyst. The job was brief until she found something more in line with her interests, but she learned a lot.

She and Wyatt were also still friends, realizing they were better off than lovers. Their affair ended on better terms than some of her other relationships. No regrets existed with him. Both were not interested in anything serious and wanted to hang out and have a good time.

Currently, living out of New York, Wyatt worked in acquisitions for some big outfit. Autumn roomed with him when she had a modeling job there in fact because they all spent a summer together interning in New York and bonded as friends. Wyatt couldn't be happier; at least, he claimed to be when Zillah spoke to him once or twice a month with the occasional text. He wasn't interested in settling down yet. Like her, Wyatt dated but no monogamous relationships yet.

The short of it, unless the business was big enough where Zillah would never see or interact with the man she dated in any way, she could still see him. _Maybe_. She guessed that was a borderline exception. Otherwise, Zillah could not imagine tolerating the sight an ex-boyfriend day in and out. Images of Jack floated before her eyes cautioning her while making her cringe if she ever thought to do such a stupid thing again. The only way to avoid that bad scene would be to leave another good job and start fresh somewhere else.

The good thing was, Zillah interviewed well. By now, she was a pro and found jobs readily regardless of the area in business. Each time she left a position, she did so in good standing where the former company always expressed their sorrow at seeing her go or provided a beaming recommendation when she asked for one. As another rule, Zillah usually didn't stay in any one company for more than two or three years though because she wanted promotion opportunities and only in leaving had she found that she could command more money for her talents with each new job.

She paid her fare and stepped out of the taxi into the Franklin Square North building where Community MT Financial was located. The white security guard looked up from his monitor and gave her a nod, and she returned it before she stepped on board the elevator waiting in the lobby. Pressing the button for the 10th floor was only halfway between the company's offices at the 12th and 11th floors reserved for the executives and senior management. The entry-level jobs and admin support could be found on the 8th and 9th floors.

Since working at Community MT for the last six months, she made some good money. It remained the main motivator for her. The other was the fact that CMT was the only employer so far who actually spoke openly about promotion potential in the first year for those dedicated and ambitious folks resolute to prove themselves.

Mr. Grayson, her boss, indicated that more bonuses were guaranteed for the achievers in the company. Ultimately part of that bonus would include stock or bond options in the company to sweeten the relationship and buy-in of the CMT's strategy goals toward the future of that individual. It was the company's way to keep their talent for the long haul without worrying over turnover too much. Thus far, Zillah liked Community's generous base salary offered for her level of expertise. If they wanted to pay her more to keep her happy and stay on with them, she would certainly let them.

"How did you do it?" Mr. Grayson inquired when he spotted Zillah entering her office once again well after everyone had gone for the day. He followed her. She turned to see the tall skinny white man in his mid-fifties with short snow-white hair standing on end and his predictable white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. He never wore any other color shirt, which she found strange because his suits changed style as did his ties, but his shirts were always the same.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Zillah asked with a slight frown as she settled her briefcase on her desk and kicked off her shoes. She sighed as she sat in her cloth management chair and leaned back a moment to enjoy the comfort it delivered her tired body.

"How did you do it?" he repeated in the approach of her desk. His hands rested on narrow hips. "Have you even checked your messages?"

Shaking her head, she offered him a puzzled glance. Her office phone indicator light did not illuminate red so no voicemails. From her soft leather briefcase, she removed her eyeglasses and slid them on before signing on to her computer. Once done, she awaited Outlook to boot-up so she could log on her email.

"No. I've been booked with appointments today. It's the first time I've been in my office."

"Read them and then come see me."

"But sir—" Zillah began because she looked up at the clock above her door to see that it was time for him to go. Mr. Grayson was usually the one to pick up his kids from school in the afternoon. Considering his wife worked second shift, she dropped them off in the morning.

"I'll wait," he interrupted already anticipating her argument. Without further word, Mr. Grayson walked out of her office.

Chapter Five

Zillah gulped down in a dry throat at Mr. Grayson's strange tone. Oh, darn it...what did she do this time? Outlook logged on finally, and she skimmed through a list of messages. The one that drew the most interest had to be the one flashing with importance. The name Drake Lachlan was attached to it! She opened it immediately.

From: Drake.Lachlan@CaddaGroup.com

Sent: Tuesday, April 12, 2016 4:26 PM

To: Albert.Grayson@CommMT.com

Cc: Zillah.Crawford@CommMT.com

Subject: Meeting

Mr. Grayson, thank you so much for sending the fine Miss Crawford to see me. As you indicated, she is quite exceptional. I look forward to seeing her again on Friday of this week of which I have discussed with her in a separate message. Perhaps then we may come to something concrete that Community MT Financial may be able to do for Cadda Group in the future.

Kind regards,

Drake T. Lachlan

President & CEO

Cadda Group International

Her jaw dropped. That was more than a nibble! It sounded like Zillah landed the catch of the day! Lachlan was on the hook with interest! Had to be if he included two compliments in there for her, which totally surprised her after how obstinate he had been initially, and let's not forget cold _and_ rude. Perhaps she made more of an impression than she believed.

Looking through her other messages, she saw where her boss responded with the eagerness Mr. Lachlan's email deserved. Oh, Mr. Grayson promised that Zillah would be at the meeting, of course, without asking if her schedule allowed for it. Darn him! The email drooled of desperation! She still needed to look at Lachlan's other message to find out when and where he wanted to meet on Friday. It was true, though. She might have had other appointments scheduled. Glancing at Friday's calendar she also maintained through Outlook, she grimaced. Zillah booked it solid.

From: Drake.Lachlan@CaddaGroup.com

Sent: Tuesday, April 12, 2016 4:31 PM

To: Zillah.Crawford@CommMT.com

Subject: Friday Meeting

Miss Crawford, be my guest at Tryst for Happy Hour on Friday, 4/15/16 at 6:00 PM.

With best wishes,

Drake T. Lachlan

President & CEO

Cadda Group International

Zillah covered her mouth in the shock she felt at the simple invitation that meant so much. Duh! There was no way she could turn this down even if she did have plans to party her brains out with her elusive roommate, Autumn. Lately, she had been dating some douche producer of a local rock band Zillah couldn't even remember the name. All that mattered involved Autumn having fun as usual. That girl would never get serious, but would not think it cool to be dumped by Zillah for work. This was important, though. She would have to make it up to her somehow.

The funny thing was how much talking could Mr. Lachlan, and she possibly accomplish at Tryst? From the reviews she read about the place, it was known for being wickedly busy at all times during the day as a coffee shop or at night as a jazzy club with a full bar. Autumn also told her once that she had brunch with a date and one of the best Chai lattes she ever had.

Overall, her bestie endorsed Tryst saying that it had a hip vibe and was an awesome little place in Adams Morgan. The same guy had taken Autumn on a date in the evening of a different day, and the place rocked with a live band, superb food, and spot-on drinks. Crowded definitely but not too much that she didn't have a good time.

Zillah, on the other hand, might not like feeling cramped because she felt claustrophobic in small spaces with tons of people surrounding her. In the past, she really freaked out when Autumn and she visited some clubs like that in New York. It didn't matter really since this situation had nothing to do with her personal time but business. Sucking it up to do something that potentially would be a deal-breaker any other time, happened all the time to land a client. Tryst would be no different, Zillah reasoned. No way would she ever back out of a meeting for such a lame reason of how unfortunate the meeting place.

In retrospect, Zillah guessed that Mr. Lachlan sought to get to know her and decided if she were the sort of person he wanted to engage in further business. The man was shrewd of which she had been warned, but she was not put off by it or anything he threw at her. After ten years in the business, Zillah saw it all and would be prepared. Tapping her finger on her lips thoughtfully, she wondered how she could possibly slip any work into this next meeting. Foremost was ensuring her own agenda saw the light of day as well as his.

Barefoot, she strolled into her boss's office because those sexy five-inch heels about killed her feet so late in the day. Zillah could almost hear her toes scream in unifying protest: _Hell, no we won't go!_ She almost laughed. When she approached her boss's office with a knock on his open door, she saw him put on his suit jacket, preparing to leave for the day.

"Mr. Grayson?"

He approached her with the roll of his eyes. "Albert..."

She nodded in understanding that since she started working there that Mr. Grayson wanted her to call him by his given name, but she could not seem to formulate her mouth to do it. He reminded her too much of her grade school teacher Mr. MacDougall. "You wanted to see me?"

"So? How did you do it?"

Zillah shrugged with the innocent lift of her eyebrows. "Well, I asked him what he needed."

His bushy white eyebrows shot up as he checked his pocket for his keys that jingled on the left. "That's all?"

Zillah nodded with her arms crossed over her chest. "In a nutshell, sure."

"And you're meeting him on Friday, right?"

She unfolded her arms as she followed him out of the office and shut his office door for him. "I was thinking about it, but I have not responded yet."

He stopped short and turned to her. "Do I need to remind you of how important this account is?"

Zillah sighed with the slow shake of her head. Hearing the lecture five or six times now, she definitely didn't want to listen to it again. For crying out loud! Yes, she knew how vital Cadda Group was CMT and to her. Zillah needed this account signed, sealed and delivered this month. She left her expression blank and replied, "No, sir."

Frowning as he looked into her pale eyes, he was not convinced. "Doesn't sound like you do, Zillah."

"I do, sir."

Albert pointed at her with the tilt of his head. "You have his interest, thank God. Seal ... the ... deal. I don't care what you have to do to get it done, but get it done."

"I will, sir," she said with a confident nod.

He stared at her for a moment longer and sighed. "I believe you. You've been working late a lot with your other accounts?"

Zillah shrugged and rubbed her neck tiredly. "Just trying my best to do my part, sir."

"Land this account, and I'm sure the company will reward you well for the effort. Mark my words."

"Thank you, sir, but it isn't a done deal. I won't rest until it is."

He waved her off and headed for the elevators. "So go ahead and respond to him then. Don't stay too late, okay?"

"I won't, sir. Thank you."

Albert paused and turned back to her with a slight smile. "Sending you was a gamble but a good one by his reaction. He's known to be ... toilsome." Shaking his head in amazement, he thought for sure they would have lost the contract. Rich's retirement was a real blow but provided the opportunity to look beyond just the subsidiary representation but the whole Cadda Group empire. Accomplishing that would be life-changing for Community. "Give him what he needs."

Zillah smiled slightly and backed away from him toward her office. "That's the goal, sir. Goodnight."

He lifted his hand in a wave as he turned from her. "Goodnight."

Back in front of her computer, Zillah sat, trying to decide how to respond to Mr. Lachlan's invitation. Since she couldn't really make it after looking at her calendar and the logistics of the meetings, she decided to answer the simple emails and deal with his last. By then she hoped a suitable response came to her. Zillah elected to keep the message concise and straightforward. Such things always worked for her in the past with more "toilsome" clients. No need to veer away from a proven formula that produced results.

_Sure, you're right. No pressure. No pressure at all._ The sarcastic voice chimed in with its witty observation. Zillah didn't bother responding as she focused on the task at hand.

From: Zillah Crawford

Sent: Tuesday, April 12, 2016 7:39 PM

To: Drake Lachlan

Subject: Friday Meeting

Thank you for the opportunity of another meeting. While I do have a late meeting across town on that day, I will do my best to be there as soon as I can.

Sincerely,

Zillah Crawford, MBA

Investment Banker

Community MT Financial

Mr. Grayson would have just told her to cancel the other meeting or send another associate in her place. However, her clients were her own that day. No way would she give them up to a hungry associate that wanted her job anyway.

_Possessive a little?_ She could just imagine the sarcastic voice tapping her foot with her arms crossed.

Zillah nodded as she thought, _Heck yeah and protective!_ She worked her buns off, establishing and maintaining those relationships, which led to the appointments. The last thing Zillah wanted was for someone to tap into her grapevine of contacts. She'd be darn if she let someone else talk to her people. Not while she breathed.

However, Mr. Grayson counted on her, and while he did throw her this client thinking she couldn't do any worst than the last four people he assigned, Zillah was the only one to get this far with the Cadda account. That had to say something of her skill in a crunch. A chime went off announcing she had a new message, which broke her out of her thoughts. As she clicked to it with her mouse, she saw that Mr. Lachlan must have been working late and responded to her message evidently from the changed subject line.

From: Drake Lachlan

Date: Tuesday, April 12, 2016 7:45 PM

To: Zillah Crawford

Subject: Location Change for Friday Meeting

Would a meeting at the Round Robin better suit so that you do not have to travel so far? I'm staying at the Willard, and this would be most convenient for me. As for the time does the same time work for you or would you prefer a later time?

With best wishes,

Drake T. Lachlan

President & CEO

Cadda Group International

Lachlan stayed at the Willard? The hotel of presidents? What on earth for? Had he not found a place to live in the District other than an old hotel for the last half-year? Hard to believe because Mr. Lachlan certainly didn't lack money. The man's net worth was somewhere around $1.02 billion last she checked! It left her more than curious as to why he would be homeless. Did he really intend to stay in the area?

The Round Robin though had potential she considered with a nod. It wasn't as big or as loud a venue as the trendy Tryst. The bar held a more refined and classic vibe like the historic Willard itself. He and Zillah could actually conduct some business there, which was totally what she had in mind rather than a simple get-to-know-you session.

From: Zillah Crawford

Sent: Tuesday, April 12, 2016 7:53 PM

To: Drake Lachlan

Subject: Location Change for Friday Meeting

Thank you for your consideration, sir. Yes, meeting at the Round Robin would be a much better fit to meet you at around 6:30 PM if that is okay?

Sincerely,

Zillah Crawford, MBA

Investment Banker

Community MT Financial

No sooner than she worked through her list of priorities for tomorrow, Zillah heard the ping of her email receiving a new message. She was surprised by the fact that she did not have to wait very long for Mr. Lachlan's response. Relief flooded her as she read his latest message.

From: Drake Lachlan

Sent: Tuesday, April 12, 2016 7:55 PM

To: Zillah Crawford

Subject: Location Change for Friday Meeting

Excellent! See you then.

With best wishes,

Drake Lachlan

President & CEO

Cadda Group International

Mr. Lachlan must have been waiting for her response while working late. That was a good thing. Even better would have been to seal the deal with a contract. The sooner they got to work on what they could do for each other, the better she would feel. A lot was riding on this deal that could make or break her along with her employer. Nothing like the potential close of a lucrative account to boost her pride a little and put Zillah in the mood for celebrating after so long a dry spell.

The kind of opportunity of snagging an account of this significance was the very thing she officially needed to make leadership at Community MT Financial sit up and take notice. Procuring the signature of Mr. Lachlan in a contract with her employer would mean she, at last, earned her spot to be one of the big boys and shatter that glass ceiling on the kind of money she knew she deserved in a base salary for all the long hours and assiduous work done. Zillah would not get ahead of herself, in all her bubbling excitement. It all came down to her meeting on Friday, and she would not blow it.

Chapter Six

Drake needed to leave the happy hour scheduled with his employees in the next hour he imagined as he sipped his Guinness Stout and watched them enjoy themselves. Tryst in Adams Morgan was a short walk from work, and the Friday drink specials were nice to take advantage. He continued to check his watch, looking forward to the meeting with Miss Crawford all week.

His friend Sabrina, of course, thought him a fool. She all but told him so when he invited her up for a nightcap after dinner on Tuesday. After meeting with Miss Crawford for the first time, he had been wound tighter than William Shatner's girdle!

"What do you want, Tomcat?" Sabrina asked while following him to the full bar within his Willard executive suite he had been calling home for the last six months. He prepared his favorite cognac for her and himself. The views of the Washington Monument and White House one block over were gorgeous from the top floor.

"What makes you think I want anything?" Drake asked with a smile that pressed a dimple in his cheek when he turned to her with the drinks.

Sabrina was the only one he would allow to call him that. While at first, it had not been a term of endearment more like teasing ridicule in front of her friends, over time, it did grow on him along with their unlikely friendship during boarding school. Drake didn't think as he looked back on that lonely time in his life that he would have made it through the experience without her eventually befriending him.

That world in boarding school saw a distinct divide between the privileged and not. Where Drake fell in the "not" category, Sabrina was every bit the wild card. Like a mob boss, she pretty much dictated whatever she wanted and changed the rules when it suited her. Evidently, because she liked Drake, no one bullied him again. All because he had been the only one bold enough to steal a kiss when she least expected from the likes of him.

Still true today, Sabrina Moreau pretty much did whatever she pleased. Her father Francis could not resist her and gave her whatever she wanted. Further, no man could tame her heart it seemed just as no woman could tame Drake's. Perhaps that was why the two of them hit it off so well as friends. They were too much alike he supposed.

Sabrina tossed her light copper hair off her shoulder and allowed the long tresses to drift down the back of the magenta shift dress she wore. She clinked her glass against his. They sipped cognac together with their eyes fixed on each other. "Oh, you want something. Otherwise, why not invite Leo to join us?"

Drake's lips curved up at the corners. "I've not seen you in almost six or seven months since you've been spending all your time with your latest conquest José the footballer out of Spain, right? You have truly been the envy of Spain and France at least, so the tabloids say."

"And now I'm not." She shrugged with nonchalance. "Such things never last. You know that. How many times did your various papers follow you in Philadelphia thinking you would marry your latest conquest?"

"Not the last one." He shook his head with the clench of his jaw. He'd rather not remember it how obsessive that last girl had been. It was such a shame.

"True. That ended in a way no one could expect. Is that why you decided on new scenery?"

He swirled his cognac glass and watched the dark brown liquid in consideration of how to answer that. Drake had never been one to run from anything, but in this situation, even his father suggested he get away from Philadelphia for a little while. "Perhaps."

"Is it working?"

Drake leaned into her and tapped her nose playfully. He needed to lighten the mood and decided that changing the subject was the best way to do this. "Truth is I wanted you to myself. Leo may visit another day."

Sabrina wiggled her nose at him. "Uh-huh," she said with the tilt of her head at him as she sipped her drink. "There could be only one reason for that." She stepped to him and rubbed his chest as he regarded her through his inky lashes. Her hand drew lower, and then her own smile appeared wicked. "As I thought, you had a harder motivation."

"Did I?" he questioned coyly but then licked his lips each time her hand drifted lower to the truth of his feelings.

"One you cannot seem to take care of on your own? What's the matter? You don't have enough women trailing after you here yet?" Sabrina asked as she stared him in the eye with her amused smirk.

"There are ... prospects, but with time."

"Bullshit." Her hand slipped into his slacks and underwear where his breathing caught as she stroked the length of him. "Drake Thomas Lachlan takes what he wants and lets nothing get in his way no matter the city he's in."

He sighed when she squeezed his bulge but then released. "I did find someone, but I lost her."

Her eyes widened at this admission. "Really? How did you manage that?"

"At a masked party. I never found out her name, but she was... " He sighed and then shook his head. For his peacock, he had been hard all day. The very thought of her and her sweet scent thrilled him even while with the beautiful Sabrina. If only the peacock stood before him now...

Sabrina lowered her drink to the bar and turned toward him fully. This was interesting. Sabrina had never seen Tomcat so affected that he was at a loss for words over a woman before. In the past, it had always been her; he most wanted to conquer but couldn't because she would never allow anyone to have so much control over her. "What?"

"I'd been looking for something to distract me from boredom. There's this club... I know you would just love it, but I met her there. We hit it off nicely, yet I never got her name or saw her face clearly." He frowned in frustration as he shook his head. How the hell had he fallen asleep? Drake would never know only that he had been so relaxed with her. More than any other time, and he supposed he was a tad bit tired with such a busy day of work. Such a thing never happened to him before, to be so out of sorts and lose all sense of himself, where he was? The peacock had been that amazing.

"Must have been some party," Sabrina murmured with jealousy.

Drake nodded. "One of the best in a while."

"So did you return to this club?"

He sighed with disappointment when Sabrina removed her hand from his swollen crotch altogether. He needed to adjust himself and did. "It's a private club, and so it's not open all the time, you see? I am eager to return for the chance to see her again. That was two weeks ago now."

Both her eyebrows raised at the neediness of his dark brown eyes. This woman had done something to him that Sabrina had never done. This strange woman was dangerous in that the whole reason Sabrina returned was to be with Drake again. In speaking with Leo, he said that Drake was restless in DC and needed some cheering up. Now she saw that he was fixated on another. Damn her blasted timing!

"So in all the time you've been here this is the only woman that caught your interest, huh? The one who got away?"

Drake nodded with the clench of his jaw. "Yes, but I will find her. I recognized her friend, and through her, I will find my peacock again. I need only be patient."

Sabrina tilted her head back and laughed. "A thing you do most poorly, my friend."

"Maybe," he said with a quick smile.

"So, in the meantime, you've found no other to occupy that lustful appetite of yours?" She took his glass from him and lowered it to the bar. Sabrina turned his serious face toward her and saw the opportunity yet.

"I have, but I don't think she likes me very much." He smirked with a side smile.

In affection, Sabrina chuckled and caressed his face. "You're an acquired taste, Tomcat."

"But I thought I was irresistible to all women?" he asked, smirking. He narrowed his dark eyes, making him look anything but coy and all dangerous. She fell for the look every time they took up being lovers.

That look from Drake always got her in trouble while in boarding school, too. The other teenaged sluts could not resist his exotic good looks, but Sabrina made it clear that he was all hers. They could only have him if she chose to share him. Back then, it was never often. This time it was different though. Another occupied his mind and not Sabrina.

"For women who are after your money, you will be."

"And for those who aren't, which are few like you."

She waved at him. "Oh, I'm a breed apart." Her smile flashed fully with the nibble of his lower lip. He gasped when she let it go. Sabrina murmured, "I only want you for your body and the amazing things you can do with it to mine just the way I like it."

"Is that all?"

"You think I'd ever be dumb enough to fall in love with you?"

"You wound me." Drake stepped away with his hand to his chest like she shot him in the heart.

"Like me, you are far too fucked up to want anything else constructive."

"Why not tell me just how you feel?" he queried with sarcasm in his side smile.

"What are friends for if not to give you a reality check?" She slapped him against his cheek playfully as she smirked at him now, and it brought such light to her grey eyes in her amusement at teasing him well. Sabrina always did love doing that above everything else she did to him in or out of bed.

"Didn't think I needed any of that. You and I both know I'm a sex god."

She chuckled and crossed her hands over her chest. "So go tell this other woman that."

He shook his head. "She's an investment banker trying to woo my business."

"Then let her. Seems simple enough to me."

Drake smiled a little at the thought of his other distraction Miss Crawford. The more he learned about her, the more he liked her. "I've checked into her. She's professional and ambitious."

"All the better if she wants _all_ your business."

"And active in her church, never been married." He shook his head. This sort of driven woman he never sought, but everything in him came alive at the prospect of having her. The more concrete it became in his mind, the less dissuaded he felt.

"Boyfriend?"

"Not at the moment."

"Do you think she's never going to go for you? A billionaire who wants her?" Sabrina looked at him skeptically. "Women literally have thrown themselves at you, and you think this investment banker won't?"

"To be honest, she's not the usual type that I'm attracted to. I thought she was, but then she challenged me."

"Challenged you how?" Sabrina blinked her grey eyes at him in surprise.

He chuckled as he rubbed his chin. "I'll be damned if she didn't stare me down even with my penetrating stare."

"Oh, really? And you wonder why she doesn't like you, huh?"

"You don't understand." Drake turned away from her with his sigh and finished his drink. Other than his peacock, he's thought of nothing else all day. He needed to do this, but how did he conquer Miss Crawford?

"Yes, I do. You seek to manipulate her as you do every woman you lure to your bed so she'll comply with your every demand and twisted need. Have you forgotten that I have known your charms once upon a time."

He glanced at her with a twinkle in his eyes. His smile grew. "You know all my tricks, but you always come anyway."

Sabrina stroked his smooth cheek with her thumb. "You're full of artful skill and exhaustive enthusiasm when it comes to the female form. You enjoy every moment of the taking with a control unrivaled. That can be seriously addictive."

"So José couldn't measure up?" he asked with a sly look in his dark brown eyes.

Sabrina shook her head and chuckled dryly. "He tried but came up short."

Drake smiled wider as she fed right into his ego, and he pulled her close by her tiny waist. He stared into her bright grey eyes he once believed he loved very much as a boy. "Have you missed me, Sabrina, as much as I've missed you?"

"Always," she breathed, lowering her eyes to his mouth. There was no other reason for her to be there except that she wanted him, too.

"I can remedy that," he said while looking into her eyes and running his fingers through her soft copper hair.

"And this woman that you want?" she asked mysteriously with the lift of her arms around his neck. "Is she pretty like I am?"

"No one could be fairer than you, Sabrina."

"But you still want her?"

"Yes..."

"And me?"

He searched her grey eyes, wondering of the change. Always the two of them played this game, and Sabrina would tease, but this time it felt... different. Perhaps she tired of it as children do when they grow up. Drake was sure he had not finished growing though. "Can I have you both?" he inquired with uncertainty because he could not remember an instance his clever friend ever had given in with ease.

"There's a condition."

There it was. He knew that it was too good to be true. Drake sobered, expecting as much. "Name it."

"Between us, you will declare who you desire most as a lover. Which of us is the best at pleasing you."

"She stands before me," he whispered without hesitation before leaning in to kiss her.

Sabrina pulled her head away at the last moment and shook it. "That was the easy answer. No."

"You would deny me tonight?" Drake stared into her eyes full of naughtiness like her small knowing smile at him.

"Let me finish, will you?" she fussed with a sudden stern look.

Drake nodded with a pout. He wanted badly to kiss her. Just once so that he would win. She could never resist those from him. "Of course."

Sabrina chuckled at him for he looked the same whenever she did not let him get his way when they were children. Some things about Drake never changed. "Find these women who fascinate you," she uttered in seducing tones by his ear before nibbling it. "Conquer them. Use them. Make them your slaves...willing and obedient like all the others."

Drake didn't like where this was going. Not every woman he slept with necessarily qualified as such. "No."

"Then, I walk away now." She turned away from him unexpectedly.

He grabbed her arm and turned her back toward him with the clench of his jaw. "No. Dammit!"

Drake kissed her neck, and Sabrina nearly panted with her own need crawling over her. He knew that spot on her skin, just below her ear, that drove her insane with wanting. She braced her hands against his chest, trying her best to keep her wits. Tomcat never played fair, which was why she found him so formidable.

"Yes..." she insisted.

"I want you _now_ ," he murmured in his trail of kisses down her neck.

"But then you will decide amongst us who you want most," she purred at his ear again. "And before I give you all that you've always desired, you will make them slaves to you, and we'll really play."

" _All?_ " Drake gasped in surprise as his eyes smoldered at the thought of the pleasure that would give him.

"Anyway you like," she declared with heat in her grey eyes she focused on his.

"You are such a tease," he said hoarsely for her proposal was far too tempting.

"Only a taste, for now, Tomcat. I will have you undivided. Whole or not at all," she said, staring into his eyes resolute.

Drake nodded at the small condition with his excitement at the prospect of unrestricted access to all of Sabrina's hot body any way he liked. Damn! "I will make it so quickly."

"You do that," she whispered just at his lips as he leaned in to take the kiss he had been aching for all night with her.

Lowering away from his mouth though, Sabrina looked up at him from her knees. He hissed his frustration at the tease she was. She touched his hardness boldly through his slacks. No further need to speak of his peacock or Miss Crawford for that matter with the distraction of Sabrina, making him remember why they were such good lovers in the past. This woman, before him, knew just how to touch him to make him want her beyond reason. Once again, she assumed the control of the game. How exciting! The rules set meant his boredom would be a distant memory.

Hours later, after Sabrina left his body satisfied, for the time being, Drake's mind returned to the puzzle of Miss Crawford. He also considered what his friend told him that should have been obvious. Perhaps how he sought to gather this very different woman in Miss Crawford to his bed could not be by his usual game of intimidation and seduction.

The background check on her was as impressive as the CV foretold. She worked hard, and it showed in the number of people who only glowed with words like trust, integrity, and perseverance when it came to her capabilities. Further, Miss Crawford was not even as young as he liked. His women typically hovered in their early to mid-twenties for the best effect of his charms. With his latest target, only three years separated them with him still the elder. Three! How could he have gotten this so wrong?

The more Drake read on the information his investigators gathered about her, the more intrigued he became. Miss Crawford never married. No children; no boyfriend. No substantial debt other than student loans, which just about were paid off. She didn't own a car but did know how to drive. She had not traveled abroad but lived in New York for a year combined gaining some experience during the summers of her undergrad, and from there she returned home to the District of Columbia to graduate and establish herself and her reputation.

Rechecking his watch, the time to leave Tryst arrived. He bid his workers farewell for the weekend and would see them on Monday. The private limo service of a black Lincoln provided by the hotel where he stayed was exceptional in that it remained with him wherever he went and the driver Juan seemed to know just when Drake was ready to go. As soon as he exited Tryst, he found Juan smiling and nodding a greeting to him as he opened the passenger door for him.

"The Willard please." He unbuttoned his suit jacket before he stepped in.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Lachlan," Juan responded while promptly shutting the passenger door.

Chapter Seven

"Oh, this is risky," Zillah murmured to herself as she fidgeted with her hands. Not usually her style to be this nervous, but then again a lot rode on this meeting. Taking a deep breath and rolling her shoulders, she needed to relax.

_You've got this._ She encouraged herself. _Give the guy what he wants, and you can walk away with a lucrative contract that will turn some heads at Community._

Zillah released the breath she held. She wouldn't blow it. So far today, everything proceeded better than planned. Not only did she finish all of her appointments early but in record time. Especially with her last client, a flower shop owner on Capitol Hill.

The client Navaeh came into some money with the death of a dear old Aunt who was loaded. The shop owner wanted to expand her operation. She had more orders than she could handle alone and could use an upgrade in her facilities. Unfortunately, Navaeh had no idea how to begin to look at any of this and really needed some guidance. Zillah was happy to help with a proposal that met her needs in what Community could do for her as they had so many other small businesses in the Washington Metropolitan area.

So, blown away by Zillah's proposal, Capitol Hill Flowers signed up for Community to take care of all their banking and investment needs to build on the goals of expansion. Finishing up early meant that Zillah had time to swing by her apartment in Eastern Market and change clothes for a night of deserved partying. Autumn was not happy about her being late, but she wasn't backing out altogether. Zillah would meet up at POV Rooftop Bar with her and some friends from work. The night was pleasant, and the views of downtown from the bar were outstanding.

She changed clothes and hopped on the Metro subway to Federal Triangle as close as she could get to the Willard on 14th and Penn from her apartment. Lucky for her, that was a good move because traffic was heavy due to it being a Friday night. It worked in her favor to arrive before Mr. Lachlan graced his presence. It gave her a chance to admire the grandiose vibe of the historic hotel with its stupendous arches dressed with elegant pediments above them. The large columns in the lobby looked like they belonged in ancient Greece and lavish decorations along the ceilings in medallions, or shields seemed worthy of the Italian Renaissance.

Zillah popped briefly in the ladies' room, another massive space with grand embellishments, to check herself one last time before meeting up with Mr. Lachlan. Afterward, nothing would stop her from getting her groove on tonight. It truly felt to be the longest week ever, and she needed to have a little fun. She always liked dancing. DC had no short supply of dance clubs for her to shake her tush. However, first thing's first, the "toilsome" client had to be dealt with. Gazing at her reflection the mirror, she nodded again. She could do this.

Zillah reviewed her ensemble of the off the shoulders taupe dress that clung to every curve she had and rose well above her knee. The gold strappy heels she wore with this were her favorite. Instead of leaving her hair pinned and neat, she let fall gently in waves to hang at her shoulders with side-swept bangs. She wore a little more make-up than what she would for work in a bronze eye shadow and warm red lips.

Definitely, this look edged more toward sexy than conservative, but not slutty either. Zillah decided that she could pass for a late business meeting after hours in the outfit. Then again as she rested her hands on her hips and looked at her curvy backside, maybe Mr. Lachlan should get the wrong idea. What an intriguing thought! Perhaps just to see if she could raddle his cold and rude cage and ruffle a few tail feathers.

In the outfit Zillah rocked out of the park tonight she doubted seriously if he would be ignoring her this time that's for sure. And, she already checked him out thoroughly this time, doing all of her homework. He didn't play for the other team, so there was no danger of embarrassing herself that way, not that it mattered to her any.

Point being, that when she strutted her stuff out of the ladies room and into the Round Robin, more than a few guys who sat at the bar already stared with interest but she politely declined their advances with a smile. The bartender already had been told the drink selection needed at the appointed time. She had other fish to fry tonight and needed to stay sharp.

At 6:30 PM, a man both tall and slender strode into the bar carrying an air of confidence that changed the vibe of the bar. It was difficult not to notice how every eye shifted to him, men looked envious, and women licked their chops in hunger. The man walked right by Zillah wearing a dark blue sharkskin suit. She frowned with a closer examination of him. Mr. Lachlan? She could not say that she had ever seen him from the back before. He looked very fit and with his medium length, dark hair neatly combed to the side very handsome.

Scanning the green room with its portraits of dead presidents, every available seat looked filled. Drake frowned in disappointment, not finding Miss Crawford amongst the crowd. A lovely young woman approached Drake from the rear wearing a tan dress with long sleeves that exposed beautiful shoulders. The same woman touched the back of his arm with long unpainted nails that were shiny. He turned to her without recognizing her at first. He blinked with a slight smile. When he stared into her familiar pale, almost colorless eyes, Drake realized his confusion was justified. Miss Crawford stood before him!

Raising both eyebrows in approval, he looked her over again with a bit of surprise. Damn her womanly curves left him speechless! Not only did she wear more make-up that brightened her face when she smiled at him in greeting, but she also wore no glasses that obscured the true beauty of her face. She hardly appeared the same woman he saw on Tuesday with her dark hair falling in loose waves about her shoulders and bangs that curled around her right eye.

"Miss Crawford, I did not see you there," he managed in the way of recovery. It was not often that people took him off guard, but this woman had done it twice. He must have genuinely been off his game since coming to the area over six months ago.

Zillah shrugged loving his reaction for it was precisely what she hoped. "I'm used to it." She gestured to the table by the green wall beneath an oil painting of a young man rowing in the river that could have been the Potomac. "Please sit with me, sir?" she offered, heading for a seat.

"Of course." He assisted her with his chair before taking the empty seat after unbuttoning his jacket. He touched his silk grape tie as he sat. He noticed that she crossed her legs at the same moment he did. "Well, I must say you look very nice. I would imagine not for this meeting."

Her eyes twinkled at him with amusement, and he found himself drawing a breath suddenly. "I do have immediate plans after our meeting. It worked out well that I could change and make this my first stop of the evening."

"What kind of plans?" he wondered with what he hoped was a friendly smile. For some reason, the idea that Miss Crawford went out on a dating with some other man looking this hot annoyed him. _Get a grip, Drake, she's_ not _even yours..._ yet _._

"Girls night."

"Ahhh," he said, unsure he liked that any better.

"It's been a while since we all hung out together. A bachelorette sort of thing because one of my friends is getting married tomorrow," Zillah volunteered and didn't know why. She felt like she babbled with the intense way he stared at her. Feeling a little self-conscious, she wondered if it had been a good idea to gather his undivided attention.

"A night on the town sounds fun," he replied, relaxing his shoulders.

"It will be. We have a VIP room at the POV and just need to show up ready to party." Tossing her hair out of her eyes, she asked, hoping to turn the conversation on him, "How was Happy Hour at Tryst?"

"It went well as usual. We try to do it at least once a month, and the staff looks forward to it."

"A great morale booster, I'm sure."

"It is. Too bad that you couldn't come. I'm sure you would have enjoyed it as well."

"Perhaps another time."

"Perhaps." He leaned back comfortably in his chair. "So did your other business go well today?"

She nodded with a broader smile. "Very much, in fact. It finished before I knew it."

"Mission accomplished?"

"Always."

He widened his arms in an open gesture. "And so here we are."

"Yes. Thanks again for this opportunity, sir."

"As I said, Miss Crawford, I'm eager to hear what more you have to say." The bartender came over and served him a cognac in a snifter glass with a short stem and her what appeared to be a Mint Julep in a tall glass. Drake looked up at him and then at her a bit puzzled.

Understanding his expression, she explained, "I took the liberty of ordering for you, sir. You like Courvoisier neat, right?"

Drake blinked at her again in surprise. It seemed he was not the only one who did a bit of background checking after even the small things. Hmmm. He liked her more and more by the moment. "I do." He nodded as he lifted his drink to his lips for a sip with the hint of a smile. "You've done your homework."

"I like to be prepared for anything."

"So do I, but you first. Tell me what else you've learned since the last time we spoke?"

"You are not originally from this area, but Philadelphia where your former headquarters was. Schooled abroad, you like to travel because of it. You enjoy a deep appreciation for the arts as well as literature. Your favorite book you tell everyone is the _Art of War_ by Sun Tzu, which is understandable because of your success in the business world over the last decade you have run Cadda. You often quote the principles learned from there. The book though that you don't tell anyone about that you read often is _Things Fall Apart_ by Chinua Achebe."

His smile faded. The look in Mr. Lachlan's eyes appeared guarded when they narrowed. "Are you certain you aren't an investigative reporter? That last was extremely obscure."

"Why that book by Chinua? Honestly, I would have guessed something like Gulliver's Travels, War and Peace, or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." She remembered that the Nigerian tale of one man's struggle to be more than his father was and the dark places it took him was required reading for her English Composition class on world lit in her freshman year at college.

Her first impression of the book left her disgusted. She did not care for its ill-treatment of women. As a whole Zillah would not say, it was something that she would want to read repeatedly. Although the book was difficult to forget in the poignant human themes that all people face, she did appreciate the reminder of how similar human beings were no matter the culture.

"'But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness.'"

It was her turn to lean back in her chair. Zillah studied Mr. Lachlan as he regarded her with his mysterious dark brown eyes. A look in them that she could not understand lingered, but she tried her best to pay attention to his statement and the haunting way he said it which sounded like a quote from the book. There was more to what he said than merely the words themselves. "Is that what you fear?"

Mr. Lachlan smiled mysteriously with the faint press of a dimple in his cheek. "A reminder to me that fear should never be a driver but conquered in all things, Miss Crawford."

Zillah blinked at him in surprise because it reminded her of the smile of the man she met at the Underground, but Mr. Lachlan sounded nothing like that man who held the tone of a smoker once upon a time. She also did not expect such an answer from him. Obviously, he took away something far more interesting in the story than she did years ago when she read it.

Zillah cleared her throat and smiled. "Very encouraging and insightful."

"You can borrow the quote if you like."

She chuckled for there it was again. That smug arrogance just when Zillah believed she would get somewhere real with Mr. Lachlan. It seemed he only allowed a brief glimpse beneath his layered surface, and it intrigued her. "That's very kind of you," Zillah said, dripping with sarcasm.

"The other books were good guesses, though. I like them, too." Drake took another sip of his cognac while she sipped her drink. "So tell me more about what you've learned. You have me riveted, Miss Crawford."

"Came across a book you've written on achieving your goals, but in it, you merely speak of a philosophy you've developed over the years and mentored in your corporate managers. It seemed you were careful not to reveal too much about yourself in the process."

"Are you disappointed?" he asked with the small curve of his shapely dark pink lips upward.

"Makes me wonder what you want to hide."

Mr. Lachlan chuckled and sipped more of his drink. "I'm a private man."

"Who lives a public life."

He ran his hand over his silk tie. "I think you must have me confused with some other billionaire bachelor."

"Do I? The local tabloids in Philly seem to love you and your latest affair with a gorgeous model or rich socialite. You must feel out of sorts here because I couldn't say I saw the same kind of attention in any DC gossip pages."

Drake found it odd but refreshing in a way not to have reporters deep in his affairs there. Nonetheless, he could not say he had dated much beyond the action discovered at the private club the Underground of which he had been invited and was currently a member with so many of like mindsets and tastes. "It's been rather nice, I must admit, to fly under the radar here."

"And boring. How could you stand it?"

Drake chuckled because she hit the nail on the head. At first, he thought that was all he could possibly want. A nice leisurely break from the ridicule of his hometown parading his latest conquest for all eyes to see. The good thing was that no one had a hard-on for him in DC. Part of the reason he remained down there centered around that. From there, he flirted with the idea of starting all over again, but more discreetly this time.

For more than six months, Drake could not imagine how boredom would rankle him. Then he stumbled upon the Underground, a private club made up of influential individuals like himself with similar unique tastes. He discovered the peacock but lost her. Oh, but he would find her again. Guaranteed. He swore an oath to himself that he wouldn't give up.

In the meantime, Miss Crawford, who sat in front of him, provided a needed distraction. She preoccupied his thoughts. They should never be idle, but in a delectable way to chase away the boredom. What a challenge she presented! Drake sighed at the thought of conquering her...enslaving her...

"My time has been well spent on my next endeavors," he said truthfully with eyes that glittered mysteriously.

"Like where you intend to live while here?" Miss Crawford asked with the twist of her mouth in what could have been a smile, but he wasn't sure.

"Is something wrong with the Willard?" He truly enjoyed the opulence of the place and was very comfortable.

"You've lived in this great city for over six months now."

Mr. Lachlan nodded with the inquisitive lift of his eyebrow. "I have, and...?"

"Still stay in a hotel?" she finished with her hands gesturing around her. "Either you're too busy to find a home, or you have no real interest in being here on a permanent basis. Perhaps when things settle down, you'll return to Philadelphia?"

Drake sipped his drink and then settled the glass back on the table to knock on it with his chuckle. "In truth, I haven't decided. The Willard's executive suites are superb, and I do enjoy the convenience of living so close to work. It makes commuting simple."

"I suppose, but I've always thought of hotels as impersonal."

"Why's that?"

She pondered his question and then answered, "None of what makes a house a home is there. Sure, the furnishings are exquisite and luxurious if it's here, but what about the things you love around you? That's what makes it a home."

"So you consider yourself to be more materialistic?"

She nodded. "In some ways."

"Like what ways?"

"I love taking pictures of friends and family and so my place is filled up with pictures. Not having them displayed would feel odd to me. Isn't there anything you miss from your home in Philadelphia that you don't have here?"

He contemplated her reply, not expecting it and smiled. "Lots of things now that I consider what you mean. Are there real estate agents that you would recommend?"

Both her dark eyebrows arched at him. "Are you serious?"

"Always."

Zillah blinked at him for a second. "I know of several who would love to assist you, sir."

"Somehow, I knew you would." Drake pulled out his wallet from his inside jacket pocket and from it pulled a business card. From the same slot in his jacket, he pulled a silver pen and flipped the business card over. He scribbled a name and number on the back of the card before handing it off to her. "Please contact my assistant Judy at this number with your recommendations for a real estate agent."

She took it, and his warm, smooth fingers brushed over her own, sending a shock to her. Zillah's brows furrowed for a moment as she read his neat penmanship and the number, which was not local.

"She's in Philadelphia at the moment, but as soon as I can get her to relocate, I will."

Zillah looked up at him with a solo raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"I'm not dating her," he added.

She blinked at him in confusion with the shake of her head for she didn't realize that she asked such a personal question. "I'm sorry?"

"I don't date people I work with." Drake sipped his cognac as he watched her in fascination. "Work should be work and pleasure something else entirely. Wouldn't you agree that never should the two meet, Miss Crawford?"

Zillah smiled at him feeling more at ease and chuckled in amusement for she had no idea where that came from. "It is something I agree with whole-heartedly actually."

"How much do they pay you at Community?" he inquired in curiosity.

Her eyes swelled for that seemed a question out of left field, too. "Enough, but this meeting is supposed to be about what my employer and I can do for you."

"I rather like not dealing with a middle man or in your case middle woman. I do like your style, Miss Crawford, and you haven't bored me, most importantly." Only half of his mouth lifted in a smile.

He watched her blanch at that, which he expected. "Thank you... I think?"

"Let's call it like it is, shall we? You've worked very hard to get where you are and to only reach the level you have in ten years..." He shook his head, gravely. "Such a shame. You work harder than any man and should be compensated for your merit."

Zillah blinked at him, wondering if he read her mind somehow. That statement was kind of freaky coming from him, but she didn't let on how much it bothered her. She said instead with confidence, "I do, and I am."

"What would you say if I doubled your salary and offered you the run of your own department?" Drake gestured to her. "Clearly, you have the drive to succeed. I could use more dedicated people like you on my team."

The frown she could no longer suppress descended, but she did not look away from his direct gaze while he sipped his Courvoisier. "Sir, Community MT Financial has been very good to me, and you are their client, not mine. I would respectfully decline any such offer."

"Respectfully decline, is it?" He snorted without taking offense but was surprised she turned him down without contemplating the magnitude of his offer. "Playing hardball, huh? So I'll offer three times your current salary for you to come and work for me."

Zillah shook her head as she quickly calculated what that would mean. Six-very-fine figures a year to settle all her student loan debt and even consider the purchase of a house a lot sooner. However, she didn't hesitate to linger on what other things she could spend the handsome salary on. Her principles rated far higher than her striving for a fair wage. "I would still respectfully decline, sir."

"Many in your position would leap at such a grand opportunity to work with a renowned global company. Imagine the exposure, the experience to be gained under me. You should not be so hasty in your decision."

"A very kind and generous offer, sir. I do not discount it in the least. I'm flattered that you think I would be a good fit in your organization." She shook her head. "Community MT Financial is a great group, and your interests would be looked after with the utmost care."

Mr. Lachlan still held his glass and smiled mysteriously again. His dark eyes twinkled at her, and Zillah did not trust that look. "As long as you are there, Miss Crawford, but you never stay in any one place very long."

Her mouth dropped open and then she promptly shut it. Zillah took a drink of her mint Julep to recover. So, Mr. Lachlan studied her, too. "If you want to get ahead, you need to be willing to move around, sir. A mentor of mine once told me that. I've kept it close to heart."

"Do you do the same in your romantic relationships?"

"Excuse me?" Her eyes widened at such a personal question and how it could possibly have anything to do with their meeting.

"You remain unmarried." Drake nodded down at her ringless fingers.

Zillah rose an eyebrow in offense that she tried her best not to show as she remained civil but firm. "By choice, which is not a topic of discussion here, sir."

"You would never have to do that working for me." He waved his hand around. "Move around, that is unless you wish to, but I'd prefer you do that in the many divisions I have within my company."

"I would not wish to leave Community if you must know. For the first time, I feel like they are the company to motivate me to want to stay."

He leaned forward a bit in interest. "I'm curious. What have they done to promote such loyalty from you?"

"I buy into their vision which they include me in, and not just me but all their employees. I can respect that and feel involved in their goals toward success."

Drake considered that for a moment. "I respect you and your veracity, Miss Crawford." He tapped his free hand on the table. "Draft the contract. Send it through to Judy. She'll have my lawyers review and see when we can get to business with Community. If your employer is as loyal and dedicated to me as you are to them, then I trust my needs will continue to be handled with exemplary service."

Her mouth dropped open again as Zillah stared at him. When he smiled this time, there came the deep press of dimples in both his cheeks. She sank back in her chair, breathless. Mr. Lachlan was so much more handsome when he smiled, but she shook her head shocked because the cold and rude man never surfaced during this whole exchange. Not once! Arrogance and bluntness made an appearance sure, but not the others.

"But you haven't heard my ideas."

Drake raised what remained of his snifter of cognac and clinked it with her glass of mint Julep which was only half gone. "Wrong. I liked everything that I've heard so far. To you, Miss Crawford, and the start of a great work relationship."

Chapter Eight

"A freakin' billionaire offered you a dream job, and you turned him down?" Autumn asked for the fifth time after listening avidly to Zillah's retelling of her crucial meeting last night she'd been stressing over for a week.

The dude met was the same rich guy Zillah revealed as being the super douche when she attempted to give him her pitch. Seemed to Autumn, the dude was nothing but a big dick. Her friend was too nice to ever say anything so negative about a client or anyone. Zillah admitted how he was challenging and wondered only now if he had done so on purpose just to test her reaction.

Zillah sighed and then chuckled involuntarily. "Somehow I knew you would say that."

Up until today, Zillah had been tight-lipped during the party with the girls and wedding prep but happy swearing that she would tell all later. Not able to wait anymore, they took a break from the dance floor in their yellow satin slip bridesmaid dresses. The day could not be any more perfect this time of year for an outdoor wedding along the river at the trendy and classy Sequoia Restaurant. The weather was overcast with the sun peeking out periodically when pictures were necessary.

Autumn and she settled their bouquets of yellow roses down behind them on the dining table. Everyone had eaten by now, including the yummy buttercream cake and the wedding bouquet and garter had been tossed already. With all the formal activities done, everyone simply enjoyed each other's company. That, of course, meant plenty of action on the dance floor.

Like the other bridesmaids, Autumn and Zillah ditched their satin heels as they partied to Taylor Swift non-stop. Taylor was the bride, Tammy's favorite artist in every way. Tammy even tried her best to look like her by straightening and then dying her hair pale blond. The look just wouldn't be complete without the added ringlet extensions reminiscent of circa 2008 Taylor Swift.

Her husband Billy liked Taylor too, so he didn't mind his wife's new look or sexy red lips. He proudly boogied down with the black woman he loved to the enjoyment of all. A white guy on the larger side, Billy was never self-conscious about it. That confidence filtered over to his dancing as well, regardless of his lack of rhythm. It didn't stop him from having fun with his skinny bride who adored him and called him her "Cuddle Muffin." Autumn and Zillah would gag every time Tammy said that but were ecstatic for their friend. Tammy and Billy were perfect for each other because they didn't mind making fools of themselves or sharing that joy they had for life with all their friends.

"It's a test," Zillah said as she replayed yesterday in her head. Her only conclusion for the job offer had been that. "The whole meeting and maybe the first one too was nothing but a dumb test."

"Do you think Mr. Megabucks wouldn't have hired you?" Autumn's narrow eyebrows inverted, attempting to make sense of her friend's statement.

"Maybe, but I couldn't do something like that to CMT. They've been good to me, Auto."

Autumn shook her head because that made no sense to her either. She never stayed at any company very long anyway. Why was this one so different? "You're crazy. Mr. Megabucks offered you the lead of a division of his 'B' as in _billion_ -dollar company and triple your salary?" She tapped her palm against her own forehead. "Hello-o! That's the job you take."

Zillah shook her head and waved off what her friend said. "I already have a job I love. Besides, that's not how I roll. I can't be bought and don't care how much money he has."

"Say _what_?!" Autumn stared at her wide-eyed for a moment. "You work late every night proving to those idiots that you're smarter and better in every way to any of 'em. Someone finally notices this quality and wants to reward you for it, but you don't take it? Now that's my idea of crazy!"

"It's not." Zillah shook her head stubbornly.

"Oh, yeah it is, and deep down, you know it. Part of you has gotta be kicking yourself right now. _Triple_ salary? Day-uhm! I wish someone would offer me something like that. No doubt I'd take it."

She crossed her hands over her chest and lifted her chin at the blonde. "I am perfectly okay with the decision I made. It's not like I don't make good money now."

"Someone says here's the job that will give you everything you've been working for and you don't take it?" Autumn shook her head in disbelief. "Whack!"

"I move because I want to, not because I'm money hungry, but because I want to be paid what I'm worth. I want to be paid what I've _earned_."

"And you think you don't qualify for what he offered you? All those late nights you've put in over the years working circles around everyone, sacrificing boyfriends in the process, all for your career ambitions to be on top and you're given in one stroke of luck the perfect job that you've been working toward? Instead of taking it though, you actually turn it down?!"

"No." Zillah didn't know how to explain it in a way that Autumn would understand. It was the whole principle of the thing. She would get to the top on her own merits or not at all.

"Yes."

Zilla pointed to herself looking very serious with her eyebrows turned down. "No, because ... it must be on my terms. _Not_ his."

The light seemed to go on behind her blue eyes. "Oooh, so this is a control thing, huh?"

"No." Zillah sighed and shook her head again.

Autumn scratched her head and then shrugged. "Who cares as long as you get paid?"

"Any offer that sounds too good to be true usually is. Working for him would have a lot of strings attached. I just know it."

"Would that be so bad whatever those strings were? I mean you said he was good-looking, right?"

Zillah cringed with the close of her eyes and rubbed her bare arms. The restaurant rented out for the wedding reception was situated along the river with views of forest along Theodore Roosevelt Island. Further down the Potomac River they also saw the Washington Monument. The sun was warm when it popped out periodically from behind a cloud, but the air held a little bit of a chill. As long as they were dancing, Zillah didn't notice.

"I've told you before I don't date people I work with."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, that whole thing about getting burned and break-up issues." Autumn waved her hand in dismissal.

Zillah waved her friend on. "Best not to go there."

"But, what if, Mr. Megabucks likes you?"

"He doesn't."

"You know that for sure?" Autumn asked with the solo lift of her eyebrow as she blinked her bright blue eyes at her friend. "By how you tell it, he sounded plenty interested to me. And, how could he resist how hot you looked last night? Told you to dress up more for work instead of looking so homely."

"I look professional for work not homely," Zillah defended taking offense.

"You'd be making more money if you did things my way as that offer last night can attest."

She pointed at the blonde. "Look you, I'm not selling myself like that!"

Autumn held up her hands, trying to calm her down. "Hey, I didn't say sleep your way to the top."

Zillah rolled her eyes. "Just look like I will."

"Yeah."

"Wow."

Autumn turned and leaned into her friend and questioned, "What? What's wrong with that? We've gotta do what we gotta do in this world to get ahead because nobody's gonna give us what we want. We have to take it unless, of course, they're _you_ who is given a job without asking for one by a billionaire who would freakin' triple your salary because you showed him a little leg."

Zillah hit her on the shoulder with her bouquet. "You're so bad!"

"Nope. Telling it like I see it." She glanced into her pale eyes for a moment and asked, "Weren't you tempted to say yes?"

"God, no!"

Autumn frowned at her a moment. "Why because you like him?"

Zillah shook her head. "No. He was rude and impolite the first time we met, remember? I haven't forgotten any of that."

"But not the second time. You said he was charming, and it threw you a little."

"No, not interested, Autumn." Zillah shook her head again.

"I mean what if he really, really likes you? Do you think you could reconsider? Rules are meant to be broken, you know. Just look what you did at the Underground."

Zillah stared at her sternly with the shake of her index finger. "It was a one-time thing that I won't be repeating."

Autumn blinked in surprise. "But you liked it."

"I did." Zillah turned to her fully and looked to her flatly. "Still, a man like that would not be interested in me."

"Did you get a gay vibe from him? He's pitching for the other team, isn't he?"

"No." Zillah shook her head. "The tabloids were clear that he likes women. The very hot and very sexy type."

"Oh...so you've done the whole background check, haven't you? You do like him." Autumn smirked at her knowingly if her friend took on such an expense.

"No...I was researching him because I find knowing the most about a person you can then anticipate their likes and dislikes better while trying to gain their interest in working with you. Do you forget what I do for a living?"

Autumn waved her off as she drank a bit of white wine before she settled the glass behind her beside her bouquet. "Yeah, yeah, hustle rich guys out of their trust fund money and invest it for them."

"Not exactly, but I need to persuade them that my company and I can fulfill their needs. It would help to know the kind of person they are to best make the sale."

Autumn's knowing smirk resurfaced. "Which includes how many women he's slept with and the kind of woman he's attracted to no doubt."

"No," Zillah said with measured patience, "I do a full search so that I have a holistic view of the person. His private life is only part of that. However, I wasn't able to find out much about it other than the few smoking hot women he's dated back in Philadelphia."

"Right. So you're not interested at all in him based on what you learned, but I could tell last night, and today you're still thinking about him."

"I don't like him, and he certainly doesn't like me that way either."

"He'd be crazy not to. You are such a tease, Zil. You have a gorgeous body and a sharp mind. Devastating combined together. Crack to somebody like Mr. Megabucks."

She struck her friend on the shoulder again. "I am not."

"And hard to get. I bet he thinks you're worth the pursuit. Bet he's not used to people telling him, no, and you did more than once. I don't think this is over, sweet cheeks. Hope you're ready for it."

Zillah shook her head, wondering where Autumn retrieved her off the wall notions. "Where do you get this vivid imagination?"

" _Pretty Little Liars_ on Freeform."

Zillah looked at her and laughed as she pushed to her feet. "Come on, drama queen. We are being summoned by the other queen of the day."

Tammy signaled that she wanted all the girls on the floor as the DJ put on her favorite tune _Shake It Off_. "Zil! Auto! Come on!"

Autumn took Zillah's hand, and the two skipped over to the dance floor with the other bridesmaids. They began to cut loose, singing, and dancing harder than ever. Both could not help but be swept up in Tammy's enthusiasm as she belted out the lyrics. For the time being, that was precisely what Zillah hoped to do with Mr. Lachlan. She needed to shake the man off her mind once and for all.

Chapter Nine

Autumn tried but could not convince Zillah to join her at the Underground tonight. She was serious about not returning for some reason. _Chicken._ Her friend even refused to go into any kind of real detail about her experience at the private club. Autumn knew that she enjoyed herself with the tall man in the black mask, but beyond that, Zillah refused to speak of it further.

Trying to get that girl out of her own head was the worst. So while her friend sat at home soaking her aching feet in a bath with a paperback romance for the evening, Autumn decided to take in the sights and sounds of her new favorite guilty pleasure. No masks tonight, but the place was lively as always.

"Two Tequila shots," she said with a smile. When provided by the hunky bartender, she paid for them promptly. "Thanks."

Autumn prepared to knock back her liquor when distracted by a tall man in a fitted grey glen check suit. He approached her with a sexy smile that marked his cheeks with dimples. "Hello, I was wondering if you could help me with something?"

Autumn turned to him fully and smiled back with the lick of her red lips. Not the usual pickup line she heard, but it wasn't bad either. "Hello, yourself. I was just thinking the same thing."

"You were?" he asked with a bit of surprise raising his dark eyebrows.

She nodded and gestured to her extra shot. "Would you like a drink?"

"Wouldn't mind if I do."

She slid him over her extra shot. They knocked it back at the same time. "Drinking is so much better when it's not alone. Thanks for that."

"Hard for me to believe someone so lovely would have such an issue, but I was happy to oblige."

"So how might I oblige you or did I already beat you to the punch?"

He chuckled in his amusement. "No. I noticed that your friend is not with you tonight. Is there some cause for that?"

Her blond eyebrows rose with her question, "My friend who?"

"The peacock."

She blinked at him shaking her head. "I think you lost me."

"Well, that was the mask she wore the last time you both came together. I thought she was your friend, but I guess I could have been mistaken." He scratched his dark head, not thinking so. Every inkling of that night he first laid eyes on the peacock he combed over for clues that might help him find her.

"So you're _the_ guy?" Autumn reviewed him from head to toe a bit slower. He was well-groomed and very handsome. With the exotic look of his dark eyes and dark olive skin, he was definitely the sort of man Zillah drooled over.

"So then you're friends?" he asked with the lift of his hopeful, dark eyebrows.

She nodded. "We are."

He sighed in relief. "Has she ... asked after me?" he asked curiously while not looking away from her bright blue eyes.

Autumn reviewed him again and licked her lips because she would go after him if she didn't already know Zillah liked him. "She's spoken of you more than once."

He broke eye contact then and scanned the room. Since the blonde entered, he didn't notice that she had a companion with her. "Is she here? Did I miss her?"

Autumn shook her head in disappointment. "No, she preferred to stay home on a Saturday night, but she's weird like that."

He frowned in worry. "Did she not like her time here, or was it me?"

Autumn touched his shoulder. "No. You... she liked. A lot."

His smile grew brilliant. "Would it be too much to ask her name and where I might find her?"

Autumn stepped back from him and considered that. She didn't know this guy even though he seemed nice. "My friend...she'd kill me. No way I could do that."

"Please? I swear I'm not some creep."

She laughed at him, unable to help it. "Which is exactly what a creep would say."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. You've got me. I just liked her is all and wished I had the chance to tell her that as well as ask her name before she slipped away."

With another thought, Autumn shook her head and sighed, knowing it wouldn't work out. Zillah would freak and probably never forgive her if she set her up with this guy without her permission. "It would make her uncomfortable. She's stubborn that way. Sorry, guy."

He frowned with a sigh of his own. "Then how would you suggest that I contact her and let her know that I've thought about her continuously since we met?"

Autumn regarded him and saw the sincerity of his dark brown eyes. "Would you really want to see her again?"

He nodded without looking away from her. "Very much. Can you arrange this somehow?"

"That's just the thing. I don't think she has any interest in returning here."

He looked around at the various patrons in different degrees of undress. Many found their own private corner of the club for a little action. Others made public spectacles of themselves by rutting right there on the dance floor.

"This place is not for everyone. I can understand that."

Autumn lifted a curious eyebrow at him as she studied him. "Are you sure she's the kind of girl you'd want to see again knowing that all this makes her uncomfortable?"

He nodded with his winning smile. "What if I gave you my number? You could offer it to her, and if she's interested in seeing me, she can call? We don't have to meet here. I'd meet her anywhere that makes her comfortable, but I really want to see her again." He pulled out a business card and wrote his cell phone number on the back. "Any time. Day. Night. Will you tell her?"

Autumn nodded slowly with a smile and took the card from him. "Sure. I'll do it."

"Thanks." He sighed in relief and then said, "There's something else."

"What? There's more?"

He nodded and pointed to the dance floor. A tall guy with blond hair lighter than her strawberry blond danced, looking to them with curiosity. "My friend over there likes you. He's a little nervous, but he's a good guy."

Autumn studied him and nodded her approval. "I've seen him here many times, but he's never talked to me."

"He thinks you're so beautiful that he can't seem to summon the courage to come and talk to you," he said in a candid tone, staring into her eyes. "However, the whole reason he comes here is that he wants to see you. By the time he gathers the courage to finally come and talk to you, some other guy has beaten him to you."

"Awww..." Autumn said absently fluffing her strawberry blond hair and dropping her hands to the waist of her red cocktail dress.

"Could he come and talk to you now?"

"Definitely."

He waved the blond man over and hesitantly the guy came. When Autumn gazed up at his broad shoulders and into his twinkling green eyes, she sighed very pleased. He was more than kind of cute. The guy was flat out gorgeous! The warmth of his eyes and sweet smile made her want to melt.

"This is my friend Leo. Leo, this is my new friend..." the dark-haired man said as he gestured between them.

"Autumn," she supplied with her hand to the blond man before her.

Leo took her offered hand in his own and kissed her knuckles. "Good evening, love. A pleasure to finally meet you," he greeted amiably in his clean British lilt.

Autumn gasped not expecting that as she touched her chest with her free hand. "Your British?"

"Very."

"Well, I'll leave you to it," the dark-haired man said with a smile and then walked away. Autumn glanced at the business card given that said Willard Hotel with a cell number on the back, but she had no idea what the dark-haired man's name was. He already retreated up the stairs leading out of the club before she could think to ask.

"Did that rascal Tom leave his card?" Leo asked her when she turned her head to look back at him.

"Oh...yeah, Tom did, but not for me. My friend."

"Ahh, yes, the peacock." Leo chuckled mildly. "He's been yammering about her week after week wanting to find out who she is so he can see her again."

"So he really likes her?"

"Does a cow pie stink?"

Autumn giggled with this fantastic news! She couldn't wait to tell Zillah the latest development, but could not think of leaving Leo now. She just met him. Besides, the way he gazed at her with such heat in his beautiful green eyes, she could hardly think of taking off now. Autumn was feeling a familiar flame, too, or more like a slow burn.

"Do you wanna go someplace private where we can talk?" Autumn questioned with a small smile and tilt of her head.

He nodded and returned her smile. "I would since I was about to suggest the same."

"Your place?" she queried, knowing that she never took guys back to hers. Zillah would have a cow about how dangerous that was. She didn't want to hear the lecture and so was in the habit always heading off to the guy's place for a bit of fun.

"Let's go," he said gesturing for her to precede him.

Autumn hooked her arm through his and guided him out of the club. "Thought you'd never ask."

Chapter Ten

Talk about improbabilities of the universe times ten! Zillah could not believe the small rectangular bit of ivory card stock with embossed lettering that she held in her hand all afternoon. Meeting with Autumn over lunch in Zillah's office because it had been so long since the two had seen each other, she could not stop picking up the Willard Hotel business card given or dialing the cell phone number written on the back into her own cell phone before deleting it like the chicken Autumn claimed she was. No name had been written on the card, but Autumn said over a bite of the foot-long Subway sandwich they shared that his name was Tom.

"Yeah, and like he was really cute," her friend commented as she glowed in a light pink floral dress with her legs crossed. She was situated in front of Zillah's desk as she ate a piece of the Italian BMT sandwich she broke off.

"He was?" Zillah asked in awe while blinking at her from the other side of her desk she needed to clear off a bit for the meal.

She never counted on the guy met at the private club coming back to look for her. Often Zillah wondered if the masked man in black thought of her at all or the night they shared together, but she didn't read anything into it. It was a fling, and nothing more magical than that. She acted like a horny floozy but got it out of her system for sure. Now Zillah was responsible and sane again. The sort of person who didn't dare take such risks with strangers in peculiar clubs.

Autumn took a sip of her Vitamin Water. "And he was nice, Zil. I mean sincere and stuff. He really wanted to see you again and was so disappointed that you didn't come back. He made me think that he believed you didn't like him at all."

Zillah frowned at her. "Geez, no! He was so ... sexy and in control. Everything about him, including his body, was a total turn-on."

Her friend's grin grew. "I know, and that's what I told him."

"You _what_?!" Zillah cried mortified as the bite of her half of the flatbread sandwich fell out of her mouth quite unladylike.

"Well not in those exact words, silly!" Autumn giggled at her with a snort and tried not to choke on her bite of sandwich. She took another dainty sip of Vitamin Water with the nerve to hold her pinky in the air. "I told him that you thought about him too and liked him."

Zillah brought shaking hands to her face because she didn't know if that was much better. Her friend was going to give her a complex if she didn't kill her first. Taking a deep breath and then releasing it, Zillah then took a sip of Fuze iced tea followed by another trying to calm down. "I can't believe you, Auto."

"He wanted me to set you up." Autumn shrugged with a new bite of her sandwich.

"No!" she shouted with glaring pale eyes seated at the other side of her desk. That would have been horrible.

"I know. I know. So-o, the compromise was for me to give you this." Autumn wiped her hands with a Subway napkin and then pulled out what looked to be a white business card from the side of her camel-colored Coach purse that matched her ballerina flats. She handed it to Zillah between two fingers. "Tom said that he understood if you were not comfortable with coming back to the club. He would meet you wherever you want. He just wanted you to know that he liked you, had not stopped thinking about you, wanted to meet you again, and maybe this time get your name."

Zillah sat up a little straighter as she considered her friend and then the business card she held. That didn't sound so bad, did it? She took the card and asked, "He really said that?"

Autumn smiled brightly with a spark in her blue eyes. "Yep, and then he introduced me to his cute friend Leo."

"He does ... sound like a nice guy." Zillah tried to take another bite of her sandwich while thinking over everything her friend said so far about Tom.

"I didn't have any alarms going off the whole time I was talking to him."

"Did he...you know, look for some other girl since I wasn't there?" She drank more iced tea, knowing that she should not care one way or the other but felt the need to ask.

Autumn shook her head. "No. After he introduced me to Leo, he left the club."

Zillah's eyes widened in shock. "So you think he only showed up just to see if I was there?"

"That's what Leo said. Leo also had been waiting for the opportunity to meet me and hadn't been interested in anyone else once he laid eyes on me." Autumn winked at her. "Believe me he's shown me all week what that meant."

"You really look very happy." Autumn hadn't stopped smiling since she breezed in her office with lunch. Zillah had been holed up in her office all day with no sign of ungluing her tush from her office chair. She had been in a zone reading through financial reports, searching for leads, and gathering ideas for proposals.

"I am," the golden blonde said cheerfully. "Leo's such a great guy, Zil. I don't know how I managed to find the One the way I did. I know it sounds nuts, but I think I'm in love!"

Autumn finished out their lunch gushing about her latest love interest, while Zillah fretted over the business card given. Periodically all day since her friend left her, she stared at it, wondering if she should call the number written so neatly on the back. What would she even say?

Hey, I'm the girl you screwed but good and as soon as you dropped off to sleep slinked away.

No. Shoot! That wasn't right.

Thanks for a great time. Oh, the pleasure you gave... a fantasy come true. I savor it still.

The truth then sounded better, but it made her feel desperate. It wasn't real, that time they spent together. In her mind, it wasn't even the real her. Zillah stepped outside her comfort zone that night. Could she honestly do something like that again? In all reality, the answer was no. So why bother contacting Tom to get his hopes up that she could give him any more than what he already experienced? Wasn't that why he went to the club in the first place? He implied that he had been there before.

_And that he was looking for something that hadn't been fulfilled until he saw you, remember?_ Zillah gulped down in a dry throat because she could not deny the last thought from the snarky know-it-all voice in her head. She shut her eyes for a moment in indecision. Her fingers still flipped the business card in her hand. What should she do?

The urge to call Tom, despite how uncomfortable the whole thing seemed lingered. Zillah met him by chance. They connected at the raunchy club in a way that was hotter than any real-life hook-up like _ever_. Was it only a one-time thing? It had to be, right? Normal and healthy relationships couldn't develop into something more based on one steamy sexual encounter, could it? It was hard to say because at the moment that's what seemed to have happened to her best friend by her telling of it anyway.

In the last two weeks since her office move, Zillah worked late almost every night. She could not remember the last time she saw Autumn at home. Zillah's routine had been to eat, sleep, work in that order. While Autumn and she texted every day, they didn't talk much on the phone.

In all their conversations, her friend revealed how head over heels in love, she was with Leo, and she couldn't wait to tell her all about it in person. Besides a modeling gig in New York and then heading off to London on a short trip with Leo who apparently was a Brit, Autumn had not been home much. This affair must have been for real because in all the years that Zillah knew her, she could not say she ever heard Autumn so gushy and giddy over a guy.

Zillah sighed at length, realizing that maybe she used work to push away her loneliness. Her best friend was in love. Her other good friend Tammy married her perfect guy. Was she too picky like Autumn claimed? Was that why Zillah all but gave up on the whole dating thing since breaking up with that cheater prick?

Seeing her friend at lunch, Zillah didn't feel so lonely. However, here she was again after hours. Unlike Mr. Grayson, she had nothing to go home to. That had to be part of the reason she worked instead of leaving. Autumn would not be at their shared apartment to greet her so they could have dinner together or watch Netflix for their favorite TV shows. Instead, she was off on a date with her man, which Zillah didn't begrudge her, at all. She just missed spending time with her best friend and roommate.

"Excuse me, Zillah?" Her assistant, Kathleen, a petite white girl with curly brown, knocked on her open office door with a pleasant smile. "You've got a visitor."

Still flipping the ivory business card in her hand, Zillah looked up from her financial report on the double screen monitor with a blank look on her face. As far as she knew, she had no appointments today and was certain Kathleen would have told her otherwise. Kathleen dropped away from the door and was replaced by a snow-white haired Mr. Grayson.

Zillah sighed a bit easier and settled the business card down. "What brings you up here, sir?"

"You do. Nice digs," her old boss said with a cordial smile and his hands on his hips. He entered her new corner office on the 12th floor of Community's offices. It doubled in size from her last office and even had room for a small round table with four chairs around it that she could use for a conference table in front of a large window showing a view of another office building and some of 13th Street below.

Zillah stood to her feet with a slow smile. She tossed off her glasses near the business card forgotten for the moment. She came around her desk with her shoes off and leaned against it as he looked around. "How goes it down there without me?"

"Dull. I miss you, to be honest." He smiled at her crookedly.

She shrugged. "It's only been two weeks since the move."

Zillah brought in more pictures of friends and family, which he examined in the pine bookshelves against the soft eggplant walls with white trim. Mr. Grayson glanced back at her and chuckled. "Yep, but it took only a day to draft the contract for Cadda, get it signed and for the powers that be to make the right decision and move you up here with the rest of the superstars."

Zillah waved at him. "You're embarrassing me."

"You are by far the fastest mover I've ever seen in this organization, but you worked the hardest for it, Zillah. You deserve all the success. You got the job done with Cadda like I told you to. Didn't I tell you the company would sit up and take notice?"

She nodded with a bright smile. "Yes, you did, sir. I had no idea it would be so fast, though."

"You can handle anything thrown at you, kid. You'll do great."

Zillah sighed at length under his proud smile. "Thank you, sir."

He pointed below. "Don't forget about us downstairs, okay? And take some needed time off for yourself."

She saluted him. "I hear you, sir."

Albert wagged his finger at her in his preachy way at the end of the day like he used to. "I know how you are. In one ear and out the other. You'd work yourself into the ground if I let you."

"I won't. So don't worry about it."

He waved at her knowing better, but he tried at least. "Well, can't say any more than that. You'll listen, or you won't. Take care, okay?"

Zillah nodded as she walked back around her desk. "I will."

Albert shook his head as he went out the door. Already Zillah sat back in front of her computer consumed with whatever Outlook message that popped up on her screen. She didn't even see when he left. It was just as well. That girl would never change. She was a workaholic for sure.

Zillah frowned at the new Outlook message received. It was from Mr. Lachlan with whom she had not heard from since the contract was signed. Others within her organization and his own dealt with the particulars of the plans for the investments themselves. Her new bosses sought input from her as Senior Lead Investment Banker on the proposals to be worked through Cadda. She already sent those approved proposals forward, through the ranks to handle the particulars of execution. The head honchos wanted her to review more big clients for potential prospects. She found several opportunities and worked them through those businesses for new sales.

Once more, her fingers picked up the business card from Tom and toyed with it. She hoped that nothing was wrong. Why else would Mr. Lachlan contact her though, if not because there was a problem? Her heart began to race in a sudden fear Zillah could not stamp out. She clicked on the message and held her breath as she read it.

From: Drake Lachlan

Date: Wednesday, May 4, 2016 6:07 PM

To: Zillah Crawford

Subject: Congratulations

I hear congratulations are in order Senior Lead Investment Banker! With great power comes great responsibility, yet we both know that you have all the skills you require to succeed in your new position.

With best wishes,

Drake T. Lachlan

President & CEO

Cadda Group International

Relief flooded her at the kind message, and the fresh breaths she took that were slow and calmer than she felt a few seconds ago. No problems, thank God! Mr. Lachlan was only giving her a pat on the old back the way Mr. Grayson did. How nice, right? Her smile faded as she continued to think about that. How did he even know about her promotion in the first place? Who would have told him? Hmm. Still, Zillah supposed that it was awfully thoughtful of him to shoot her a message of well wishes.

From: Zillah Crawford

Sent: Wednesday, May 4, 2016 6:22 PM

To: Drake Lachlan

Subject: Congratulations

Thank you, sir. So far, I can see that my new position will be a challenge, but enjoy the ride. Regardless, if there is anything that you need or questions that you have, please feel free to contact me.

Sincerely,

Zillah Crawford, MBA

Senior Lead Investment Banker

Community MT Financial

At the back of her mind, she wondered if there was some other reason he contacted her. Shaking her head, Zillah thought she might have been far too cynical and suspicious for her own good. She would take his message at face value and leave it at that. Before she could do just that and continue the examination of the financial reports she reviewed for a client she would be contacting tomorrow, she received a ding from Outlook signaling a new message. Big surprise that Mr. Lachlan also worked late and was on his email. She clicked on his latest correspondence wondering what more he had to say.

From: Drake Lachlan

Date: Wednesday, May 4, 2016 6:29 PM

To: Zillah Crawford

Subject: Needs

Now that you mention it, I could use your help. Are you interested?

With best wishes,

Drake T. Lachlan

President & CEO

Cadda Group International

Was Mr. Lachlan kidding? Now Zillah was confident he was a big tease. Of course, she was interested! What was his game anyway? She didn't trust any of this but took the bait.

From: Zillah Crawford

Sent: Wednesday, May 4, 2016 6:32 PM

To: Drake Lachlan

Subject: Needs

I'm here for you, sir. Tell me what you need.

Sincerely,

Zillah Crawford, MBA

Senior Lead Investment Banker

Community MT Financial

No sooner than she sent that message, his response came, which led her to believe, he expected her to respond favorably. What a master manipulator Mr. Lachlan was! It managed to put a smile on her face though for some reason. It was clear he fished for something. Just what had yet to be made known.

From: Drake Lachlan

Date: Wednesday, May 4, 2016 6:34 PM

To: Zillah Crawford

Subject: Needs

This Saturday night at 7:30 PM at the Willard Hotel, Cadda Group sponsors a formal fundraising party for a children's charity on childhood disease research in which I support. A plus one for me at this event would be a great thing. Many of the metropolitan area's most influential businessmen and women have turned in their RSVPs so you will be in good company. The venue could serve as a coming-out party of sorts for you to reach out to new clients, and of course, rub elbows with the ones you already know. Let me know if you're interested. I'd love to see you there.

With best wishes,

Drake T. Lachlan

President & CEO

Cadda Group International

Did Mr. Lachlan actually ask her out on a date? Zillah shook her head. No way. A guy like him definitely would not seek her out that way. Her background check on him revealed the type of models he dated on a routine basis in Philadelphia, and Zillah certainly was not one of those. Her eyebrows drew together a little, mulling over the message. Did she read too much into it because that's what she wanted to see? Was something there beneath the surface?

Shaking her head again, Zillah decided that she couldn't drive herself crazy second-guessing an invitation. She needed to quit. Mr. Lachlan's motives were his own, and she couldn't help that. Crawling into that man's head was an undertaking that held a mysterious path, she should better leave alone. What she needed to do instead was trust her instincts as she always did.

Besides, Mr. Lachlan made an excellent point to mention that there would be some people of influence at the fundraiser. Being there could potentially provide an opportunity to reach more clients for Community MT Financial. In that vein, there was no way she could miss the chance to advance her career. Zillah was all about milking every prospect to her advantage, so why would this be any different? She supposed because she wondered what in the world Mr. Lachlan got out of the deal? Again, not her concern, and beyond her control anyway, but she couldn't help wondering.

From: Zillah Crawford

Sent: Tuesday, May 3, 2016 6:45 PM

To: Drake Lachlan

Subject: Fundraiser Invite

Sounds like a wonderful cause, and I would be honored to attend, sir. Thank you for thinking of me, and I look forward to seeing you this Saturday night.

Sincerely,

Zillah Crawford, MBA

Senior Lead Investment Banker

Community MT Financial

Chapter Eleven

Drake understood the substantial gamble it had been to send the invite but could not resist. He hoped the same was true of Miss Crawford. When she replied with interest, he knew that he had his chance. The move made had been contemplated for weeks since Miss Crawford entered his office, distracting him from the peacock.

Yes, the mystery woman from the Underground still lingered on his mind, too. Unfortunately, he failed to persuade her blond friend Autumn to move on introducing them or at least giving him her name. Leo even indicated that she was tight-lipped about the peacock's name to him. Autumn's phone offered no clue when he snooped through it one day. He discovered pet names in it so he could not distinguish who was who in it. Even him! He believed he was Lion but couldn't be sure. Autumn was a strange one but kept Leo occupied and very happy. Because of Drake reaching out to her on his behalf, he had the opportunity to know her. Leo hoped to help his friend in kind.

"Good for him," Drake commented aloud to his reflection in the mirror after washing his hands. He dried them on a towel before straightening the bow tie of his tuxedo. He allowed his beard to grow a bit in place of his usual clean-shaven look and sighed at the fact he was overdue for a haircut. While he enjoyed medium-length hair and the women loved to run their hands through it, he had no one enjoying that particular action of late. Not from lack of interest, the last couple of weeks Drake enjoyed the company of the city's most rich and foreign young women.

None though compared to his peacock. Drake dreamed of her every night when he made love to his own hand. His body craved hers in his bed if only he could find her. Why hadn't she called? He gathered the impression from her friend that the peacock liked him and thought of him, too. Some solace was eased at the thought he was not alone in his feelings that had yet to die. Since giving his card with his number upon it, his peacock had not attempted contact.

Autumn revealed that she had given Drake's cell number to her friend when having dinner with her and Leo yesterday. She could not give him a timeline on when or if the peacock would ever contact him. Dammit! If he only knew her name, he would not hesitate to contact her, to speak to her, and to recreate the night that burned in him since the first and last time they touched.

The good thing about the District was that it lacked in no way, shape, or form in the lovely bevy of young women drawn to the rich and successful. He had not been bored at all in that regard. He knew this game well and played as well as any. What his peacock had done to him no other managed so far, and she didn't even know it, which made it so much worst.

Drake could not get her out of his mind except when he thought of the other woman with pale eyes and glowing latte skin. The other woman who tonight he hoped would come around to his way of thinking and be his salvation... Miss Crawford.

He walked through the ballroom doors of the Willard in the decadence he sought and more than a few danced to the lively music. He smiled, liking the Latin theme of the night. Contributing to this were the handsome group of guitarists, a complement of string instruments and an accordion player performing with classical precision. The woman dancing the Flamingo was fantastic and many of the patrons tonight commented on the truly wonderful time they were having.

"Hey!" Leo greeted with a wave and on his arm was the lovely blond friend of his mysterious peacock Autumn. Both looked to be glowing in the love or lust that ruled them. Drake wasn't sure, but Leo could not seem to get enough of the girl, and neither could she of him.

"Are you enjoying yourselves?" he asked them with a smile.

"This party is pretty sweet. Thanks for the invite!" Autumn said as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek after patting Leo on the shoulder.

"I could hardly not invite you. The two of you look joined at the hip."

They gazed at one another and giggled. Drake shook his head because there was only one real reason he wanted to see Autumn again. "Any word on my peacock actually calling me?"

"I don't know. She's stubborn as I told you." Autumn shrugged with a frown. "I'm sorry, Tom."

He nodded with a frustrated sigh. "Don't be. I can take a hint." Glancing toward the entrance, Drake wondered after Miss Crawford since his peacock prospects were souring. Another peek at his watch told him 8:15 arrived without any sign of her. Frowning, he hoped that nothing happened to prevent her from coming. "If you will excuse me?"

He walked toward the entrance and was stopped by a number of people with whom he chatted. Drake finally made it to the entrance to the ballroom by 8:30 according to his watch when he pulled out his phone to see if any new emails surfaced about Miss Crawford since he didn't have a cell number for her with him. That would be in his personal files secured at the office and his suite upstairs. He didn't see any new emails and began to make his way toward the elevators. As he pushed the up button to head to his suite to get her number, the sight of a woman in ice blue caught his breath as the material of her full-layered skirt fluttered around her mid-calf as she walked on satin heels. The gown was strapless... and utterly gorgeous.

"Miss Crawford?" Drake asked because her hair that had been dark with auburn streaks looked nothing like that now.

She changed it for the better since it warmed her entire appearance. A lighter shade of brown with hints of golden highlights, it reminded him of the other woman, his peacock. It hung loosely in tousled waves that barely reached her bare shoulders. Her latte skin glowed of some speckled caramel. All this gave a fantastic effect on her eyes that shone, too, a sparkling bright pale blue with her smoky eye make-up. Her lips were perfect in the shade of pink that looked natural and light. All the attention drew to her eyes, and they were breathtaking unrestricted by eyeglasses.

"Good evening, Mr. Lachlan," she replied with a cordial smile after a pause as she stepped off the elevator before the doors closed. Zillah looked up at him in surprise that he would be there instead of his party. Darkly handsome tonight in the tuxedo worn, it fit him to perfection. His hair wasn't flat but had volume to the attractive combed back style that made his olive skin glow.

Whatever he was doing, he should do more of it. Mr. Lachlan appeared more muscular since last she saw him. In any case, his eyes held no hint of mystery in the approval they gave her at his review of her from head to toe. When his eyes met hers though, she felt like a shock of recognition of something more there.

Her first thought was that the man in black materialized right before her eyes from the private club. Tom was all she agonized over these days since being given by Autumn the business card with the mystery man's mobile number on it. Zillah could not decide on whether or not to call, and so made no decision at all. She merely prepared for this outing being the first of its kind since the wedding reception for Tammy and Billy. The closer the day came for the party, Zillah grew excited because she had done nothing but work for days on end. While this party was work-related, at least, she talked herself into some dancing and enjoying herself. Even better had been the fact that Autumn texted her that she was going to be there, too! At last, to meet the new guy, Leo, who stole her friend away would be great. He sounded like such a nice guy.

"Sorry, I'm late. Botch with the taxi," Zillah complained with the shake of her head. As many times as she had to call for one, she never had an issue with one getting lost. Really?

"I hate when that happens," Drake sympathized when he leaned forward, and she gathered a whiff of familiar spice. No, it had to be her imagination as she shook her head. "I was just going to see if I could find your number somewhere. I feared something had happened to you."

"No fear, sir. I'm here safe and sound."

"And are sublime ... as in you look so tonight, Miss Crawford." He held out his hand. "Allow me to escort you to the party."

"So, I didn't miss it then?"

"Not hardly. We're just getting warmed up."

Zillah took his hand with a smile. When she felt his warm hand enclose on hers, she took in a breath when he did. That was not her imagination, was it? The heat in his eyes couldn't have been directed toward her, could it? What the heck was going on?

Mr. Lachlan tucked her hand around his muscular forearm and led the way as he smiled down at her with the adorable show of dimples in his cheeks. She smiled up at him feeling more than a little nervous for some reason. This was a big deal, but she took a deep breath and let it go. When they entered the ballroom of the Willard, she touched her chest in surprise of the opulence of the space, marble ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and all the people dressed in their finest and dazzling jewels.

Her nerves had no time to settle because Mr. Lachlan wasted little time in showing Zillah off. They took more than a few photos with her alone and with various others that night. Names whizzed by her, and she began recording prominent faces with businesses in her memory banks. Mr. Weaver of the Weaver Co., Mr. Howard of Howard & Apollo, and Mr. Childs of Vox Enterprises, one of Cadda's top rivals in real estate in the area and good friends of Mr. Lachlan to name but a few. Her host boasted of how well she sold herself and how he could not resist her sharp mind.

Many alluded tonight that there was something else he could not resist. Mr. Lachlan merely smiled his little smile that pressed a dimple in his cheek. He assured all that he saw a marginal improvement in the investments she handled. When the monetary benefits were so bright, of course, he wholeheartedly recommended her and her company. Such a glowing endorsement over and over again left Zillah speechless at times because Mr. Lachlan worked this into his request for support of his charity.

People wrote their very big checks to the research fund Cadda established for the children's charity as the food, wine, and dancing continued. No one seemed able to resist Mr. Lachlan. All encountered wanted Zillah's number, which she gladly handed out on business cards. Before she knew it, an entire hour on her feet speaking with strangers and working the room had gone by, and the business cards she brought with her were gone.

While Mr. Lachlan had shown initially when they met that he could be cold and rude, Zillah did not meet that man at all tonight either when he gazed to her with the clench of his jaw. This was a man she barely knew and wondered who the real Mr. Lachlan was.

"I am at a loss, sir," she said at his ear before sipping her wine when there was no one left to speak with save her date.

Zillah made use of the time eating the tasty hors d'oeuvres of pork and veal meatballs with her choice of demi-glace or crème fraiche, wonderful turkey club bites of Applewood smoked bacon, Boston lettuce, and skewered tomatoes. Then there was a whole sweet section to die for. Salty peanut crunches, flourless chocolate squares and yummy dishes of milk chocolate mousse, they called the Willard Chocolate Bar. It was so good that she sampled it twice.

"In what way?" Drake asked while gazing into her pale eyes when she took a sip of wine. He drank as well but didn't find his thirst satiated at all. Somehow, it grew by the moment while standing next to her.

"Why have you done all this? Why invite me here?"

Drake lowered his glass with a sigh because he knew that he could not tell her. His smile slipped away because if he didn't touch her at that moment, the discipline he prided himself on would be lost. For a second, Drake shut his eyes as he picked up the rhythm of what the ensemble played being slow enough. Badly, he wanted to dance... with her. Right now and hoped she would not deny him.

"Dance with me?" he inquired in holding out his hand to her.

Zillah looked at him with his serious face, clenching his jaw. She glanced around and saw others already dancing not just the professionals. With her eye lingering on Mr. Lachlan, she could find no reason not to especially since she loved to dance. Something in his dark eyes though told Zillah maybe she should decline. She was out of her depth with this man.

The warning at the back of her head made her muse. Her overactive imagination played Mr. Lachlan as the wolf, looking to pounce on his prey...her. Something in his eyes made her feel like running all of a sudden. Against that very emotion, Zillah took his offered hand. She was not afraid. Heck! Nothing to fear of this man who spent the evening building her up, right? Nodding, she dismissed it all as being in her head anyway.

"Like that?" she asked, pointing to a few of the dancers who did what looked to be the sexiest tango she'd ever seen. They were very good with slow and then quick footwork, and she was definitely not so skilled to be able to match that without more practice.

"Nothing so fancy if that's your concern," he assured after a chuckle and smiled with the show of dimples deep in his cheeks.

"Good. I'd never make it." She chuckled lightly.

His eyes glittered into her own. "Follow my movements until you begin to sense them. We'll take it slow. Okay?"

Zillah nodded again feeling more at ease with the idea. "Yes."

Mr. Lachlan guided her on the dance floor and faced her in a relaxed posture. Stepping closer to her as she kept her eye on him, he slowly wrapped his arm around her torso and placed his hand gently to the middle of her back. Her left hand that held her clutch purse on his left shoulder, the same arm relaxed against his. Zillah then brought up her right hand to meet his at shoulder height as their bodies met. She gasped, but her eyes snapped up into his. His dark eyes were magnetic and full of intensity. Even as her heart began to hammer in her chest, Zillah could not look away.

They did not move as quickly in the circular dance or even as complicated in the footwork, but their movements were passion-infused in how well they seemed to fit together. More than once Drake lifted her around him and the slit of her gown unnoticed until that moment at the front of her dress fluttered to exposed her long leg over his somehow as he dragged her across the floor. Then she felt her dress flutter lightly around her in a spin before she found herself back in his skilled arms.

The way Mr. Lachlan handled her with such precision in his lifts of her body against his and let her slide over him, she lost her breath. He smelled so familiar like spice and man. So similar to the masked man with whom she also danced so well at the private club. The control Mr. Lachlan exhibited with marked fastidiousness in each step he kicked between her legs or how he stepped around her, changing their directions walking and then gliding on air, amazed her. She mimicked him as he instructed, and Zillah could hardly believe his grace or her own with him.

By the time, the song drew to its end, he lifted the back of her knee through the slit in her dress daringly high up his side, and suddenly she found herself dipped where she arched her back to him. The music ended, and joyful laughter bubbled up from her. Clapping from those around them watching sounded, which meant they were pretty good.

Zillah tried to catch her breath with her face plastered with a joyful smile. Dancing with Mr. Lachlan had been immense fun! When slowly he brought her back up to his arms, her hand found its way behind his neck and in his silky dark hair. She panted as he did when their heads drew near one another. Inches apart, their lips edged dangerously close. Their eyes locked while they breathed in time to each other.

A moment of déjà vu descended so impossible to fight. A room of old world opulence emerged without consent. Zillah and the stranger stood in that other place. His voice was different, gritty and sexy, but the eyes! They were the same sizzling dark brown and the skin tone the same dark olive. The stranger wore a mask, but Zillah felt the same insane attraction to him as she endured with Mr. Lachlan right now. Each breath taken brought to her spice and man. A scent meant for devouring. With a deep furrow growing between her brows, she could not deny the sensations flowing through her that she had done this all before.

"Peacock..." Drake whispered with the tender caress of her face in awe of the recognition made. No doubt came to his mind how they repeated the same motions. The look in her eyes was the same heat of his mysterious peacock. Her hair was not just the same, but that didn't matter. He knew who he held in his arms was the woman he had been looking for all along!

The smile that had been on her face dropped in an instant. Zillah grew ashen in her shocking realization of what Mr. Lachlan said and what that one word spoken meant. Immediately, she pushed herself away from his chest. In the same moment, another woman, taller than Zillah materialized with light copper hair in an emerald strappy gown. Her beauty stunned all who looked upon her.

"Ahhh, Tomcat, there you are! And, who might this tender morsel be, eh?" she asked with familiarity as she looked between them with a knowing smile.

Confusion furrowed Zillah's brow further with her gaze broken between the two beautiful people who looked perfect together. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, please. I need to ... use the restroom." She edged away breathing in a pant she could not control because there was no way this was happening to her. That woman she saw touch his face with affection did not just call him Tomcat! He swiped her hand away from him again.

"Is she the latest pursuit you told me about? My! She's cute." She pinched his cheek, and he swatted her hand away in annoyance. "Will you share her once she's your slave?"

"Stop it, Sabrina," Drake snapped angrily yanking his head away from her touch while looking around them hoping those near could not hear what she said. "You're drunk. Go sleep it off," he hissed in shock at her condition.

"Why? Don't you want me anymore, or is it the fresh meat?" she asked as she grabbed his face and he once more took her hands away from him forcefully.

"Do not do this here," he hissed, looking around again.

"Why? So you can ignore me even more tonight? You haven't once looked at me or asked me to dance. The whole night you've spent it with that black girl," she spat with resentment and the pout of her bottom lip.

"You are acting like a jealous, petulant child, and it is not attractive," he scolded under his breath and clenched his jaw.

"Ooo, so will you punish me?" she queried a bit too loud and then giggled with an unladylike belch that brought her hand to her mouth. "Okay, maybe I've had one too many."

Drake avoided Sabrina's lean in for a kiss, and she stumbled away from him when she came close. He caught her by the shoulders before she fell down. "You deserve a firm paddling, but I don't think I want to play anymore."

She pouted more in disappointment. "So that's it? Why?" Sabrina stared in the direction he did for a moment and then sulked more. "You choose her, then?"

Leo came toward them in alarm when he saw Sabrina falter again, but Drake held her upright. "What's wrong with Sabrina?"

Drake shook his head but searched the crowd for Miss Crawford. "I don't know, but can you please get her to a taxi?"

"Yeah, of course," he responded as Drake handed her off and walked away. "But where are you going?"

"She's here!" Drake yelled back and then nearly jogged, heading in the direction Miss Crawford did. The shock of his realization had yet to wear off. He would not let his peacock get away from him again. No way, dammit!

Sabrina wrapped her arms around Leo's neck as she giggled. Leo frowned and pulled her arms away. He began walking her out of the room, praying that Autumn didn't see him. While the two had met, Sabrina and Autumn hadn't liked each other very much. Seeing Sabrina all over him might cause rifts, Leo didn't want to deal with. He determined that whatever the matter was with Tom that he would have to find out about it later.

Chapter Twelve

No! It couldn't be. Even though the supermodel still spoke to him, Mr. Lachlan did not take his eyes off hers. Zillah panted because the fright was more real than anything she experienced in her life. Her thought became action, and she only wanted to escape. She needed to get out of there now! Once maneuvering through the crowd, who all congratulated her on a great dance, Zillah nearly sprinted down the hall until she ran into Autumn leaving the restroom.

"There you are!" her friend exclaimed happily dressed in a shimmering gold gown.

Zillah tried to move around her. "I've gotta go."

Autumn frowned at her in alarm. "What're you talking about, you silly girl?"

"No time."

"Of course, there's time! I'm so proud of you! You called up Tom, after all, you sneaky devil! I saw how you two have been looking at each other all night," Autumn said with her knowing smile, and it made Zillah feel ill.

"No."

Her friend bit her red lip in excitement. "You two are such a cute couple!"

Zillah shook her head and covered her face. "No!" she shouted hoarsely in horror.

Autumn frowned because that was not the sound of happiness. It sounded more like despair. "No? Zil, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't call him," she said in a dead voice as she lifted her head and looked to her friend with bulging eyes. "He's my client!"

"Huh?"

"Mr. Mega-playboy-bucks. It's him."

Autumn's confusion grew as she then looked beyond her and then smiled again. "But here he comes." She waved. "Hey, Tom!"

Zillah took off, running away from her beloved friend in the opposite direction because this whole situation was more than she could handle. She never bothered looking back. She couldn't in how she didn't trust herself. Sheer panic went through her at how horribly wrong the evening turned all because she danced with the man.

"Zillah!" Autumn shouted after her. "Where are you going?!"

Moving as if the devil was behind her with a flaming pitchfork, she ran for the stairs. He might as well had been in the form of Mr. Lachlan. She could not face him. No way! This was the worst kind of nightmare.

Running through the exit door, Zillah slipped off her heels. They slowed her down. She gunned it down the stairs. Once in the lobby, she continued running until she came to the street. She didn't bother putting her shoes back on as she waved for a taxi at the curb. An independent on stopped in front of her, and she piled in shouting the address to her apartment complex not far from Eastern Market. Once the cab started moving, Zillah closed her eyes, feeling the panic subsiding in droves. Her phone rang, but she didn't answer it. She didn't even look at it. Zillah turned it off. She was beyond talking to anyone.

In the safety of her apartment, Zillah found a bottle of white wine and opened it. Right from the bottle, she took a chug. She couldn't be bothered with a glass, not tonight. Her nerves were shot, and she needed immediate relief.

Only this sort of thing happened to her. Nobody else on the face of the earth ever got this lucky, but somehow Zillah did. Wouldn't you know it! In the one club that happened to be private in one of the largest capital cities in the world, she would have a tryst with a man who happened to also be her client. So now what?

Zillah had no idea. No words of comfort surfaced either in the great jumble of her emotions. For weeks, the man in the black mask held her fascination, and then she discovered that he sought her out not having forgotten about her. Days since receiving the card with Tom's phone number Zillah thought of making contact with him but failed to make a move. Part of her was afraid of disappointing him or maybe herself in the dream conjured after that unforgettable night of passion with him. Now the reality of the situation grew far worse than any fantasy.

The fact that this same man Tom was also Drake Lachlan, a client of great importance to her career and the future of Community MT Financial threw everything into a tailspin she couldn't hope to correct from disaster. Tonight, already he had been instrumental in introducing her to some of the most influential people in town, endorsing her business highly in the process. She had not asked him to do this. The gesture was sweet, and everything she needed to widen her client base. She handed out many business cards upon request always being prepared that way and actually found herself enjoying being his companion for the evening.

Tom... Mr. Lachlan... one and the same charmed her. Passion and desire with respect and mystery. What would she do? Zillah didn't date co-workers. The reason she didn't was clear enough in how she was burned the first and last time such a thing happened. However, how wrong could this go? Drake Lachlan wasn't just someone she worked with but was a darn client! What kind of ethical minefield did she just wander through?

Zillah sank on the couch, slouching her shoulders in defeat. She chugged from the white wine bottle of Sutter Home, Autumn's favorite, feeling nothing of the contents, but hoped for something. The wine might as well had been warm water. Blah! She needed something stronger but carried no other kind of booze in the house, which was probably just as well the way she felt.

What a disaster! How could she ever look Mr. Lachlan in the face again, knowing what they had done and how they did it in the private club? Even now, the thought of his hands, his smile, darn it, his _smell_ came to her vividly and alive. Shaking her head, Zillah drank more, wanting only to forget, but knowing that no matter what she did, she couldn't.

A knock sounded at her door, shocking her as she rose to her feet, staring at it. She almost dropped the bottle of wine yet caught it. With a shaking hand, she settled it on the coffee table.

"Miss Crawford?" Mr. Lachlan's muffled voice questioned through her door.

Her panic rose to her throat as if it never left her. Her eyes widened even more as she touched her throat and felt her rapid pulse. "Go away!"

"Please...let me in. I need to speak with you face to face."

"Go talk to your pretty redhead! I'm sure she's willing and able to listen to you, _Tom_ ," she replied so spitefully she wondered where that came from. Zillah didn't want to do this! What Mr. Lachlan did and with whom didn't matter to her. God help her though because it stung to see him with the supermodel in how that redhead looked at him with lust and touched him with familiarity.

"Please... I don't want to discuss this out here, but if I have to, I will."

Zillah shook her head, not wanting to do anything of the sort. "Don't then. Go away instead. Leave me alone!"

"That I could, I would, but I can't, Miss Crawford."

"You _won't_ ," she corrected, "and that's a very different thing now isn't it, Mr. Lachlan?" She took another swig of her wine as she looked around. There was no way to escape him now! How did he know where she... oh, shoot! Autumn told him probably where they lived since she left her friend alone with him after she ran away like her panties were on fire.

"You insisted on no names," he reasoned.

"It was just a fling! Let's just leave it at that...please. Please go away," Zillah said miserably when she settled the bottle back down to the coffee table. None of her answers were going to be found in the white wine. She already felt a headache coming on as she rubbed her right temple with her right hand.

"I want you. I've always wanted you."

Her mouth downturned at his response. "And the redhead along with all the supermodels, too, I bet. I don't have time for playboys or being anyone's toy, Mr. Lachlan. So, it's best if you move on."

"I am _not_ leaving, Miss Crawford," he said calmly with a firmness she believed.

Zillah stormed up to the door and tossed it open in frustration. "Why for God sakes?"

Mr. Lachlan stared at her for a second or two, still wearing her ice-blue gown that made her eyes glow and charged into her apartment, slamming the door after him. Stunned, she hastily backed away from him but halted when he grabbed her by the face and lifted it up to him. When he crushed his wicked mouth to hers, Zillah received her answer. She tasted it in his rough kiss. It was hard like he felt against her hands at his chest and full of hunger she felt strumming from his body so near. His hands dropped from her face soon in favor of squeezing her to him so tight she could barely breathe until she gasped for air.

"Because this is what you have reduced me to," Drake whispered inches from her mouth, he brutalized but did not care. He wanted her and needed her to feel how badly he did.

She shook her head, trying to clear it when Mr. Lachlan lowered her in slow increments to her feet, but could not stand after such a mind-blowing kiss. "I know you've felt it. Why else would you run?"

Zillah dared look into his dark brown eyes that were not cold. They were hot as the rest of him. Intensity poured from them with everything he felt. The rawness of it made her breathing increase, but somehow she managed, "I am not the girl you want."

"You are," he responded, tightening his grip around her waist he still held.

She shook her head. "The girl from the club... that was not me."

Stroking her face with his thumbs, he cradled it in both hands again. He leaned into her. His lips hovered inches away from hers. "You are so much more, and I want you ... now."

Zillah raised her hands against his shoulders and tried to push herself away, but he would not budge. "And that redhead too right? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Drake sighed at length because the last person he wanted to be talking about right now was Sabrina. Dammit, if she hadn't almost sabotaged any hope of him being with his peacock! He was sure it was done on purpose. Sabrina drank to excess, which he had never seen before. It was something he never hoped to see again for such behavior disgusted him. It did make clear whom he wanted, though.

"We're friends and have been more. I know who I want, Miss Crawford, and it's not her. It's _you_."

Zillah closed her eyes, unsure if she could deny herself, but she tried. Mr. Lachlan was all heat and temptation. He also was the worst kind of sin to her senses, spice, and man. Panic rose another notch with the fire in her blood. Her breathing rushed with his as he cupped his hands in her hair.

"The peacock is who you want," she replied with her frown.

Mr. Lachlan shook his head as he gently shook her hers for emphasis. "You, Zillah. Always you."

She shook her head with a gasp because it was the first time she heard him call her by her given name. Every alarm screamed with warning, and the primary rule set looked to be ignored in the wake of her desire thriving along the surface of her skin where his thumbs stroked her cheeks, his fingertips along her jaw, down her neck and over her bare shoulders. The smell of him reminded her of the last time at the Underground. How even now she wanted to devour him.

"I can't do this."

"You can because you don't want to fight this, and you will because you want me, too."

Zillah sighed, unable to do it as his fingertips danced up and down her bare arms, creating gooseflesh. Like the rest of her, her cheeks felt to be on fire. "Please..."

"Yes..." he whispered as he felt her sway into him. Drake leaned into her with his head bowed near enough to kiss her.

"Please go," she said stubbornly while daring to stare into his dark brown eyes, but still he did not leave.

"Not yet," Drake replied, sweeping her up in his arms to her gasp. Carrying her before him, he walked toward the back of her apartment down a corridor of doors. "Which one?"

She shook her head. "Put me down."

"I want you now...in your bed. Which one, Zillah, or I'll take you in both."

"No," she denied mortified with her fists to his chest and shook her head.

"Yes, I will," he stated with determination she believed in how flamed his dark eyes were upon her. They grew wild, and she could see he would not take no for an answer from her.

Zillah gulped down in a dry throat, incapable of speaking in her shock. She shook her head again, and Mr. Lachlan went toward the first bedroom, refusing to wait anymore for her to decide.

"The other," she conceded quickly for she saw his intent was real and the idea of sleeping in her friend's bed with him was gross, "It's the other one."

Drake walked further down the hall with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. Flipping on the light, he entered her bedroom, shutting the door after him. He did not want to run the risk of them being interrupted until he had his way with her. Never being a man to mince his words or say anything he didn't mean, Drake could not think beyond what he felt at the moment. All he wanted was her and could not see anything else beyond that.

Like the rest of the apartment, the master bedroom was of a decent size and tidy, painted a serene light blue with dark wood furnishings. Drake settled her near the bed, so inviting in its cream and gold linens that matched her curtains. Clenching his jaw, his mouth descended on hers without further delay or warning, but not so shockingly hard this time. The kiss served to seduce with those soft shapely lips of his taking their time over hers.

His hands slid back into her hair, which stopped her from shaking it in denial. Gentle strokes of his thumb along her jaw soothed her. Zillah gasped and his tongue followed inside her briefly, allowing her the sweet taste of the Courvoisier lining his mouth. The hint of citrus from the white wine she must have taken pleased him. Their exchange in that instant was enough to send shivers through both of them. Drake pulled his seducing mouth away from hers panting for more as he gazed at the smoky heat of her eyes. No more denial stood between them in wanting each other.

Having all the answer Drake needed from her now, he lowered his hands from her head. He wrapped them around her to unzip the back of her dress. Her hands at his chest lay flat as she reached up higher, and her arms slipped around his neck. Her nails he felt at his scalp for a moment. Then they swept through his hair at the back of his neck and made his breath catch. She had done this before, and his mouth claimed hers in the heat filling him to the brim.

This time his peacock did not let him simmer alone. She emerged from where Miss Crawford submerged her deep. Her soft lips followed his seducing play tentative at first and then boldly responded to each of his consuming sweeps. Drake's hands rubbed her smooth back that gaped in the exposure he made. Tugging down the dress over her undergarments, they heard the flutter of material drop to the floor. Gently he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her away from the pile. He settled her near the bed once more on the other side of him.

Her hands removed his jacket over his shoulders that he let fall at his feet on top of her dress. His hands drifted back to cup her face in his hands. His mouth aimed for hers that she freely gave to the kiss too brief when he saw her flash a sexy smile. Drake removed his cufflinks with the clench of his jaw.

Miss Crawford's nimble fingers rubbed at his chest and then unbuttoned his shirt. His tuxedo slacks had no belt to them as he unbuttoned and unzipped them. As she slipped his shirt over his shoulders and chest, she gasped at the lean perfection he was. Muscles flexed with the hint of veins and distinction as they had in the club. She traced the line of his abs in wonder and saw the bulge at the front of his black underwear as he kicked his pants away and she let his shirt fall near his jacket.

A white lacey bra and panties greeted his eye. He reached around her to unhook the eyes of the bra as his head descended to her neck. Her hands at his shoulders Zillah allowed her head to fall back, lost to the sensation of this man. Breathing so rapidly, she didn't want to fight. She couldn't fight herself any more than she could him. The rawness of his desire burned through her too and would not be denied no matter how much sense it failed to make. What their bodies felt each time they touched didn't need to make sense. It simply was.

Mr. Lachlan removed her bra, and all rational thought left her when his hot mouth fell on her hard exposed nipple. He moaned as if she tasted delicious to his eager tongue that took swipes of her and teeth that teased it. Her moans surfaced then to encourage his further action. Her hands dove through his dark silky hair bringing him closer to his work as his hands cupped her full breasts with greed. Then his hands ventured lower over her curved sides, flat tummy and as his arm wrapped around her. His hand ventured inside her panties. He found her garden as smooth as the last time.

Good girl. Just how I like it prepped for my pleasure.

Her gasp followed the cup of his face in her hands as her fingers curled over his stubbled jaw and he clenched it. Drake found her pooling in wetness for him as he explored between her thighs gently. Miss Crawford allowed this, widening her stance to accommodate more of his handy work. Her mouth took his in hunger with her moan at each sweet swirl of his fingers. His tongue rotated in the exploration of hers. Miss Crawford's lips stroked his until his finger entered her so slowly. She nibbled his bottom lip in a hiss and moan while her hands drew down his firm, lean body. Her fingers spread over the smooth olive skin to get the most coverage as she went until they came to his boxer briefs. Her hands rubbed the bulge of him expanding with the material.

Drake sucked in a sharp breath. "Yes, Zillah," he murmured with need against her lips. "Stroke me. Show me how much you want my big dick inside you."

Her hands dove into his underwear at his invitation, but her eyes never left his serious face. Zillah's pale eyes burned hotter with each pass of her hands and pre-cum spewed from him at his hiss. She used it to stroke him in a fluid motion that left his pant of excitement, running as fast as her handjob. Dammit, she was so good at that with the right amount of pressure he liked along the sensitive underside of his shaft and fisting the head.

"Fu..." he hissed barely audible until he could bear no more, and he pumped two fingers inside her wetness.

"Ahhh!" Zillah cried, breaking their clinging, hot kiss. She shivered with her coming in the rapid but full pump of his fingers, and he held her tightly to him when she released his cock in favor of his shoulders at the quakes that took her with unexpected strength. Her pale blue eyes fogged up at him, and Drake lifted her and her trembling legs once more to his arms.

Drake laid her in her queen-sized bed, where he then stood back and watched her shudder still. He took that time to admire her glowing latte skin and remove his underwear. With the condom pulled from his pants, he climbed on her bed.

Lifting her shapely legs up, Drake pulled her white panties from them and then promptly spread her thighs to move more comfortably between them. In a bunch, he brought the panties to his nose with a deep inhale as he lowered over her womanly form again. God, she smelled so good, like roses this time, light and sweet. He smiled with the press of adorable dimples in his cheeks at being here at last. Oh, the wonderful things he would do to her!

Zillah gazed up at him with such heat and desire as she reached to touch the sexy beard stubble on his chin. He dipped his head low as his mouth found hers willing. It seemed her lips devoured him, and he let her, liking the taste of her passion. He earned it! Nothing tasted better.

When she ran her fingers through his hair moaning so sweetly, any further tenderness in him fled. He needed her now! Drake tore open the condom and rolled it on. Her hands reached down between them to help coat him in her wetness before he entered her when he suddenly pulled her hands away. There was a question in her eyes as he held down her wrists beside her head in a gasp. Her head tried to reach his mouth so near, but he held it out of reach as he watched her squirm in need beneath him.

When he thrust into her fully, Zillah knew that she lost. She could see by the flush of his dark olive skin that he experienced the same. Desire's flames burned deep in his eyes when her gaze locked with his. He was consumed by them just as she.

"Drake..." she cried like a song to his ears. His given name. God, nothing sounded better.

So deep, Drake cupped his hands around her bottom, urging her to meet his unchecked urgency pumping her at will. His need for her was far too urgent for gentle play. She moved her hips in time to him and hugged his shoulders before the scratching began at his back. Her scream sent waves of pleasure convulsing through him. Every nerve ending felt to do the same, but he was not done with her. Zillah Crawford would know how she affected him this night and understand there could be no escape now or ever.

Drake lifted her up as he sat on his knees and turned her about to have a view of her alluring backside he stroked gently with his fingertips. "Damn, you're so beautiful."

Round bottom so appealing to him, he slapped it followed by another as she yelped in shock of his action and how it turned her on. He watched it jiggle in delight. Drake worked himself slowly into her at the new angle with one leg up and the other knee down, but it was not long before his hands gripped her tiny waist and he pounded her deep in his abandon. Her heightened cries announced her coming but did not deter his clapping effort.

He followed her down the slope of the collide where lust ruled. No more control lived in him at having Miss Crawford and his peacock, and Drake was not as gentle as he hoped to be. Discipline from years of conditioning melted as nothing before the inferno built. His control? A distant memory to the desire that ruled his will and thrust of his hips.

He slapped the cause of all this on her cute little ass as she collapsed to the bed in what could have been exhaustion. Her breathing was as ragged as his. Drake didn't know for sure or care. "Oh, no, you don't," he growled with possessive demand when he leaned down to her ear and kissed it. "You're not getting away from me so easily."

Her pant fanned her hair around her, but her response was a groan. Zillah could not articulate in words all she felt. Last time with him, she had reached orgasm twice in one night (which never happened before), and now she lost count in her amazement. She knew only that she was worn out unsure how Mr. Lachlan could have even topped the last time they were together, but he did and some. He was tireless but thorough.

No fantasy could be this devilishly good where the man knew all the places to go on her body to make her so willingly his. Mr. Lachlan ... Tom ... Drake was better than that, for there was no tease here, no games. Only the truth of the dance their bodies basked in free of everything except each other.

All the weeks of frustration and longing to this one soaring display of scathing need and rawness stripped any hope of control. Her body suited him in every way Drake took it. She yielded so completely to him as she had their first time together and like it, he was engulfed in the moment of having her, his most elusive of pursuits. Closing the divide between body and spirit, he drifted as near to heaven as he ever experienced.

Zillah's bottom slumped down in her shuddering climb, and he slapped it again to her newest groan. Drake followed her down, unable to help as his hands held her wrists at her sides, and he surrendered all that was left in him. Driven by a need too great to be contained, he pounded her the deepest he'd ever gone.

Yes! His whole body cried out and stiffened with hers. Both moaned and panted one breath, shuddering together in the glory of their achieved mutual goal, one body and flesh combined. Drake rested for a time upon her sweaty back. His perspiring head near her own sensed the awakening to the warm glow of passion unrivaled and no longer denied. Even as he spooned with her for a time without sense, no words did he speak. Drake only listened to her breathing calm in time to his as their hearts beat as one.

Chapter Thirteen

Her digital alarm went off early.

"Oh, shut up," Zillah groaned at the chipper birds tweeting as if she slept in the middle of a forest. Today it sounded like a lot of dang noise. Oh, and her head ached something wicked. White wine, for some reason, never agreed with her the next day. She must have drunk too much of it. Blindly with her pillow slapped over her head, she reached for the alarm and tapped it off. In the silence of her bedroom, she sighed, pleased.

Zillah sat up in shock with wide eyes when she realized she was naked beneath her sheets. Where was her nightgown? She never went to bed without one unless... that hot dream she had last night... Her eyes widened because it took a wild turn. Mr. Lachlan was at the center of it.

No wonder surfaced why he did since he looked pretty hot last night at the charity fundraiser. Somehow, the man in the black mask Tom from the private club the Underground was Mr. Lachlan in her dream. How that came to be fogged a bit in her mind, but Zillah believed it and freaked out, of course. That meant that Drake Lachlan, billionaire playboy was the same man Tom who gave Autumn the business card.

Zillah and Mr. Lachlan talked through the door of her apartment, and then she opened it in frustration. He wouldn't leave her alone. A big mistake. Zillah let the devil in, and he did not let her go until he released her any way he liked all night. God help her! She loved everything he did to her.

Confusion crowded in her mind. She ran her hands through her hair that she hadn't even bothered to tie down for the night. What the heck? She scanned around her and could still feel the remnants of her steamy dream. It felt so real. The feel of his lips, hunger ruling them, then sweetness. His hands, so warm, and so enticing as they touched her everywhere, making her feel so good and long for him even now.

She shook her head. It wasn't real, the feel of him taking her from the front, from behind. His possession was not like the first time, controlled tenderness. Slow and so passionate, she desperately wanted more, but he never caved to her will, but continued along his own path, flowing through a slow build to a mammoth finish that lasted longer than anything she ever felt before.

This dream last night exceeded that. Wow, did it ever! No tenderness did Mr. Lachlan deliver, only raw passion where no control ruled him. He took Zillah like a man starved for her. Each delicious thrust of his body into hers made it clear he wanted her and proved it. She never felt anything like it, and it made her feel flushed and needy for him all over again.

"Get a grip, Zillah," she told herself in a shaky voice and so stepped out of bed naked only to find her clothes from last night on the floor where Mr. Lachlan removed them. No! She shook her head and picked up her blue gown. "Couldn't be. Just a dream."

Zillah hung it back in the closet. Her bra she slipped to the hamper, but she could not find her panties. Darnit, how did they keep coming up missing? This was ridiculous! First, the cute black ones she wore the night she slept with Tom, and now after this dream with Mr. Lachlan, her white ones went missing, too.

Shaking her head, Zillah decided not to worry about it. She turned on the shower in her bathroom connected to her master bedroom and let the hot water run for a minute to warm the tan tiles. Zillah hated stepping on cold ones. She then leaped in and scrubbed her body in the hope of ridding herself of the lingering bits of her dream. Dad would be there any minute to cart her to church, and she needed to focus on that.

She got out feeling no better even though she washed her hair. She dried off and then promptly blow-dried her hair. She found a hairpiece to add to her hair in a conservative bun and then put on clean underwear. Checking the time, she saw Dad would be there any minute. She slipped on her stockings and the garter to clip them in place. Next, she wore her navy suit with a fitted jacket with lovely detailed beading at the collar to the shoulder and rhinestone buttons. With it came a flared fully-lined skirt. As she put her navy heels on, Zillah heard the house phone ring.

"Right on time," she said as she caught it on the last ring. "I'm on my way out the door now."

"No rush, baby. Just wanted to let you know I'm here."

"Thanks, Dad."

Zillah hung up the house phone surprised that Dad didn't call her cell phone like he usually did. No time to overthink about it, she grabbed her purse that was still an iced blue from the outing last night along with her church bag that held her Bible and pad of paper for notes. Spotting the white wine from Sutter Home on the living room table with no glasses, made her frown. So did her shoes she left there. Zillah remembered that she had been drinking right from the bottle after realizing...what? That Tom and Mr. Lachlan were the same? That may be what she dreamed wasn't a dream?

"Can't do this now. Won't do it. Stop it, Zillah," she scolded herself. Grabbing her keys, she opened the door where the deadbolt had not been engaged, but the bottom one was. She paused again at such shortsightedness. She never failed to lock the door when she entered the house. It was automatic, like closing the refrigerator door. Shaking her head, Zillah scolded herself internally and pushed the annoying questions that wanted voice right out of her head.

She didn't forget to lock up this time and would go to church and pray that God gave her a sane brain because she was losing the current one. Dad sat patiently in his white Cadillac sedan, tapping the steering wheel to some Gospel music, she heard faintly and smiled. She sat in the passenger seat next to him before he could get out and open the door for her as he usually did. He leaned over and gave her a peck on the lips.

"Late night?" the light-skinned black man in the white clergy collar asked as he pulled on to Pennsylvania Avenue. He headed outside Capitol Hill where she lived and drove through Southeast Washington and beyond. Dad pastored at a church in Maryland for the last few years. After his marriage fell apart with Mom because of his infidelity, he grew closer to God, saying that he heard a calling to preach.

It was all strange to Zillah. While a family they did go to church every Sunday, she never remembered Dad expressing the need to preach before. However, he confessed to her the belief a long time ago that he headed in the wrong direction but worried about enough money to support his family. He wasn't happy with his life for a long time, and that was no one's fault but his own. Until he pursued what God had planned for his life, he realized that he would remain in the same state of feeling unfulfilled. Since the struggle against his destiny ceased, Dad went back to school to become an ordained minister. Without regret, he confessed never being happier, but that did put quite a damper on the life of his teenaged daughter.

"Something like that," Zillah admitted as she began to quickly apply some eye-shadow, mascara and lip gloss all while retelling Dad of her time spent at the charity party last night. She made sure to leave out the if-y parts she still hadn't figured out yet. She only relayed that all was a success and that work would be getting a whole lot busier soon.

"It's the life you always wanted, right?"

"It is."

"Are you happy, baby?" he asked with a glance at her.

She frowned at him, wondering the reason for the question. "Yeah, aren't you?"

He offered a handsome smile. "Everyday I wake up."

"Dad..." she said in response to his usual reply in evasion to that question.

Dad sighed with a hint of worry revealed in his pale eyes, he glanced at her. "I'm very proud of all you've done on your own, baby. I really am. Sometimes I wonder if it's really what makes you happy."

"It's all I could ever want."

"Well... I worry you might get lost in the success and work and never find someone to share it all with."

"I'll never lose sight of what's important to me." She touched his hand on the armrest between them. Dad smiled bigger at her and squeezed her hand in his.

"When's the last time you've been on vacation?" Dad glanced at her with the same pale eyes in concern.

Zillah sighed and shook her head. "Don't remember."

"Because you haven't. Every two years you leave a job by the time you do earn enough time to take off and start another new job."

"Okay, I see your point. I'll think about talking to the bosses and ask them about taking some time off after this project I'm working on is done."

He lifted both his dark eyebrows looking hopeful. "You sure?"

She nodded slowly thinking it a great idea, in fact. With so much going on including her belief of losing her mind, maybe she was burned out and needed to step back to reevaluate everything.

"And speaking of someone to share some time with are you dating?"

He bubbled with an amused chuckle. "I'm content to be still right now, baby. I'm right where I want to be, and I'm happy. Right now that means I'm not seeing anyone and I'm not dating."

"Why?"

"It's complicated, but maybe one day things will change. For now, being single is the best thing for me."

By the time, they pulled into the tiny Coral Hills Baptist Church parking lot, they could see Trustee Adams already opened up the red-brick building for the 7:30 service set to begin in 30 minutes. Other cars pulled into the drive looking like the taupe Buick of Mother Karen and her real sibling Sister Louise. They lifted their hands in a wave. Zillah waved back at the two little old women she adored. When it was just Dad and her, they had been sort of like surrogate mothers to her, and she loved them dearly for it.

Zillah immediately went to their car and helped Sister Louise up and out. "Thank you, baby," she said sweetly and gave her a hug. Zillah then went to give Sister Karen a hug, too.

"Good morning, gumdrop," the older woman greeted with a smile.

Zillah laughed at the sweet endearment and then walked on behind her father, who waved to the mature women. She followed him into the quiet sanctuary. He kneeled down to the altar and prayed. From the front pew where she sat, Zillah prayed, too. That time of the morning in church she liked best. All was still quiet, and she could hear herself think. Already her nerves felt calmer than at the start of the morning.

The day slipped by quickly. It was her Sunday to play piano along with the volunteer singers. Zillah used either the music the singers provided or performed songs from the Baptist Hymnal. Like dance, her parents wanted her to be a well-rounded individual and insisted on her learning an instrument, which happened to be piano and to a lesser extent the organ. Zillah wasn't perfect on the panels for the pipes of the organ. Zillah needed more practice.

On the weekends while a teenager when her friends went out to parties with boys, she learned to play piano at church. It also seemed she played during every function outside the church too when Dad visited other churches as a guest preacher. None of that changed much now save her participation was cut back after she started college. Another church member stepped up and started playing the piano. Now Zillah played several Sundays a year and alternated as her schedule allowed with the other volunteer who also recruited a friend of his who was not a member of their church but didn't mind helping out.

Before she realized it, the first service finished, and Zillah ate breakfast made by the Ladies' Auxiliary in the church. You could smell the buttermilk biscuits and bacon during the last half of the service, which made everybody's stomach growl. The ladies always saved her a plate because Zillah would rehearse with the volunteer praise singers that Sunday for about 30 minutes to warm-up and go over the order of songs.

She chomped down on what they left for her to eat and then rushed off to Sunday school for a minute before having to go back to the sanctuary to start praise and worship before the last service started at 10:45 AM. The best service in attendance had a different but energetic vibe. It always lasted about an hour and thirty minutes because of the altar call for prayer. So many people were hurting that Dad liked to offer a prayer for all who felt they needed to come and leave their spiritual burdens at the altar.

Church ended like it did every Sunday by Dad singing a hymn and walked to the back of the church so that he could greet those leaving and wish them farewell and safe travels until they came again. He had such a great voice, too: deep and clear. Zillah always enjoyed listening to him and Mom sing together when she was little. She sighed when she drew to the end of the song.

Everyone emptied their pews and surrounded Dad. He even walked outside with some of them to feel the warm sun on his face. He waved to people, shook others hands, and kissed kids. Everyone loved him, but no one more than Zillah. While to them he was their shepherd, to her he was just her dad.

The crowds thinned as Zillah approached Dad, but her heart sank as she saw where his stare rested. Down the concrete stairs stood a tall white man, with dark olive skin and his medium-length dark brown hair combed over to the side. Mr. Lachlan wore a smart black windowpane suit with no tie and a couple shirt buttons undone. His long legs held a wide, confident stance while he leaned against a rather handsome metallic yellow two-door Mercedes. It glossed like it was brand new off the showroom floor. The big wheels were black cross-spokes making it look very sporty. Just the sort of eye-candy, she expected a playboy billionaire to drive.

When his eyes caught sight of Zillah, the man's face split in a brilliant smile with the press of deep dimples in his clean-shaven cheeks. Unhurried but graceful, Mr. Lachlan made his way up the stairs to them. Dad looked back at her when she faltered a step, and he caught her by the forearm. Zillah tried to turn away with a look he recognized as stark panic.

It alarmed him as he questioned, "Baby, you okay?"

Zillah shook her head and swallowed in a dry throat because she wanted to run but to where? Her dad still held her arm, and Mr. Lachlan approached. How could this be happening? What the heck was he doing at her dad's church?!

_Okay, you wanna ask a different question? It's obvious why he's here._ The know-it-all's voice snickered at her. _Last night was real, every earth-shaking moment of it, and he's back for more. Are you ready?_

"Hello," Drake greeted cheerfully when the woman he wanted merely gazed at him transfixed. He held out his hand to the older light-skinned black man that had the same eyes of his daughter but stood as tall as him. It was clear Miss Crawford took after him. "You must be Mr. Crawford. I'm Drake Lachlan. Zillah's boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Dad repeated as he looked at Zillah with a surprised smile.

Zillah stopped breathing and felt like she wanted to pass out. Somehow, she stayed conscious, but she had no words for her sheer astonishment at this news.

"It's recent," Drake offered because he could see her mouth open yet snap close. No sound ever came from it. He smiled charmingly as if nothing at all was wrong, and this was completely normal.

Her father gave Drake's hand a firm shake and smiled back equally as charming. "Recent, huh?"

"Very."

Zillah cleared her throat and felt to be sweating bullets at her temples. Dad studied her with a lifted eyebrow in question. "I—"

Drake cut her off. "I wanted to surprise her, which, of course, I've done. I'm new to the area and need her help with something. I've had quite the busy morning already."

"Where are you from?" Dad asked as he glanced from his daughter to the white man who smiled still before him.

"Philadelphia."

Dad nodded with his arms crossed over his chest. "City of Brotherly Love. And what do you do, Drake?"

"I'm a businessman."

Both of Dad's graying eyebrows rose. "So, you met through work?"

"Exactly."

"Excuse us for a moment, Dad." She walked toward Mr. Lachlan and took him by the arm. She stared up at him in fury as he chuckled in amusement, but walked where she guided. "What are you doing here?"

"As I said, I need your help," he replied with a glance down at her.

She shook her head. "No. This..." She waved her hand around before her. "This is not okay. You shouldn't be here."

Drake turned to her fully and clenched his jaw when they stood beside his car. "I shouldn't have left this morning, but I had to." He reached to caress her face, and she closed her eyes to the gentle touch of his sweeping thumb. "I'm here now."

She shook her head, suddenly forgetting herself even as she felt swept away in the memory of their shared passion last night. Unsteadily, she backed away from him. "Stop it!" she whispered and already felt cold from the lack of his touch.

"Don't tell me you regret making love last night?"

Zillah pointed at him while he appeared hot and coy. She hissed in a lowered voice, "You are not doing this _here_!"

Drake's dark eyes smoldered at her. "Come with me now. As I said, I need your help."

She placed her fists on her hips and stomped her foot. "This is the day I spend with my father. If you did a more thorough background check, you would know this as well as where we go to eat once church is done."

"Olive Garden or Red Lobster," he announced matter-of-factly with a nonchalant shrug. "Neither of which I've ever been to, but there's a first time for everything."

Zillah stared at him, stunned that he had done a thorough background check. She rolled her eyes at his apparent arrogance in trying to supplant her wishes. Mr. Lachlan knew her plans then but didn't care that they failed to include him. Oh, God! What was she thinking?! Of course, her _plans_ didn't involve him because he and Zillah were not _involved_ in the first place! And, Mr. Lachlan was absolutely _not_ her boyfriend!

"You are a pain in the butt, you know that?"

"Not yet, but I can be...if you don't relax that is. Pain is not what I want for you, peacock, but pleasure certainly is," he declared with a dark smile. "You have a very cute bubble booty I'd love to play with."

Her face turned beet red as she realized what she just said and what he could mean. "Never."

"Never say never. You might like it."

"My time with Dad, God-darnit! It's mine!" she snapped because already she felt how excited her body was with him so near and his talk of pleasure she had no doubt he could give. Her nipples hardened against the cups of her bra, and her core tightened with the pooling heat centering at her crotch. This instant attraction to this very pompous man was going to drive her crazy. Somehow, the man got more handsome since the last time she saw him. Zillah's heart felt like it would jump out of her chest.

Mr. Lachlan gasped sounding appalled, but his dark eyes held mischievous intent, which belied the former. "This is a church, and a good Christian should not blasphemy in the name of God. I believe it's one of those Ten Commandments delivered by Moses," he teased loving every minute of watching her squirm. He would not let her go for his life.

"Do you believe?" she asked as she blinked up at him. She could not say that during her own background check about him that she ran across his faith preference.

"In an invisible God who knows and sees all?" he snorted with a derisive laugh.

Miss Crawford backed away from him as she frowned more looking wounded. "You mock my faith?"

He shook his head in the hope of explaining. "I respect religion as a system of control to make people obedient. Quite ingenious until there's a conflict of belief and this faith turns humans against one another."

"So you have issue with organized religion. That's evasive and not what I asked at all."

"I agree. It's deflection from the real issue, Zillah. So what's it gonna be?"

"I'm going with my father to Olive Garden or Red Lobster," she said flatly and walked away from him. "Good-bye, Mr. Lachlan."

"So it will be a surprise when we arrive. Good. I like surprises."

She turned suddenly with wide pale eyes. "You're not coming."

He stepped closer with his sly smile. "I dare you to try and stop me."

Her eyes narrowed. "If you knew anything about me, you'd know you'd lose that bet."

"And if you knew me, you'd know that I'm all about winning in everything I do."

"I could call the police for harassment," she threatened with tension in her jaw as her nose flared.

Drake nodded with the clench of his own jaw. "You could waste their time with a frivolous case, and take them away from something important like a real crime, or you can be woman enough to finish your plans with your father and then come with me. I told you, I need your help."

"I am not at your beck and call!" she snapped in a whisper as she pointed at the ground where she stomped her foot for the second time.

Drake stepped closer to her with the tilt of his head and pulled out his mobile phone from his jacket. "Funny, I seem to have emails from you saying otherwise."

Her mouth opened, wanting to say something yet found no words. Zillah snapped it shut as she gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. She knew like he did that he had her neatly boxed into the trap. Oh, Mr. Lachlan was good, and she would make him pay for it somehow. She would find a way.

"Stay." She walked back up the stairs to Dad who watched the exchange with what looked to be sparks of amusement in his pale blue eyes.

Zillah shrugged sheepishly hating that Mr. Lachlan interfered with her time with him, but the sooner she dealt with him, the better. "He needs my help, Dad. Would you mind a raincheck on supper?"

He shook his head as he smiled wider. "Not at all, baby. Go deal with your man." She kissed his cheek and stiffened with the last he said. She tried to smile without gritting her teeth.

"Thanks, Dad." She turned away from him and began to make her way down the stairs again.

"And when we do, can't wait to hear all about your new boyfriend."

She froze for a second and then looked back with an uneasy smile. "Okay." Zillah continued on her way back down to Mr. Lachlan.

"Good to meet you, Drake," she heard her father say in farewell.

Drake lifted his hand in a wave. "Same here, Mr. Crawford."

Chapter Fourteen

There she sat on the black Nappa leather seat stitched in yellow of his brand new Mercedes-AMG GT S coupe. It had been delivered yesterday after all the extras added as per his specifications by his executive assistant Judy. As usual, she didn't disappoint, and he was thrilled today to have the chance to run the 503 horsepower 4.0-liter twin-turbo V8 engine through a thorough road test. Not seeking to do it alone, Miss Crawford immediately came to mind for the outing. He called her, yet it went to voicemail like last night. Did she work on a Sunday, too? He tried her there but received no answer.

In returning to her apartment, Drake did not find her there either. In pulling up part of her profile on his phone, he recalled from the review of her background profile by his private investigator that on Sundays, she went to church where she was an active member. Since there were other errands he needed to perform that morning, he timed it perfectly when she would be free and programmed the address of the church into the car's GPS. In early afternoon, Drake noticed that Coral Hills Baptist Church still appeared in session.

Parking in front of the church, he decided to peek inside. The sanctuary had murals of Jesus painted on the tall stained-glass windows, deep red carpeting, oak pews and a large cross at the front of the church. Everyone bowed their heads in prayer, and he wondered when the service would be over.

Drake looked to the pews again examining the well-dressed black folks. He wondered where his peacock was amongst them. Filling every row, men wore suits and women wore flamboyant hats to accompany their sophisticated dresses and suits. Scanning around, he spotted Miss Crawford up front playing the piano when the prayer ended. The preacher in a long black robe with a white-collar sang lead with the congregation joining in at the chorus. Finally, it looked like they were winding down.

His conservative peacock of many talents, Drake thought as he gazed at her with a half-smile. With her hair pulled so tightly away from her face, she appeared rigid and inflexible. Perhaps it was more the scowl of displeasure creasing her delicate forehead forcing her dark eyebrows to meet? Miss Crawford said nothing to him since strapping her seatbelt on and resting her small cloth tote bag behind her seat. He didn't care as long as she sat beside him.

God, Drake couldn't understand what was wrong with him! Last night he laid awake long after Miss Crawford slept curled next to him in her small bed. Never before could he say that he wanted to linger. Usually, right after satisfying each other, he and his lover went their separate ways. An unwritten rule, both parties understood and appreciated.

As he watched his peacock sleep last night, Drake soared on a high that held him captive long after the lovemaking was done. He wanted to dwell in that place with her where he drifted in a euphoria that must have fueled his fierce infatuation with her. What else could it have been? Twice now, Drake took Miss Crawford to bed, and each encounter left him blown away in the hunger that remained for her. The same truth led him to the reason for being there with her now.

"You are a hard woman to get in contact with you know that? Your phone keeps going to voicemail," he stated to break the silence between them, knowing that she would not do it.

"That's because it's off," Zillah snapped with the cross of her arms over her chest.

"I imagine while in church you don't take personal calls."

"Correct. I didn't want to be disturbed," she said quietly and gazed out of the passenger window. They coasted along I-395 until they turned off on an exit that put them along Route 66 before they continued north along the Potomac River. This time the exit lane chosen by the directional display of the car's GPS in the console put them on George Washington Memorial Parkway.

The powerful Mercedes in his hands performed flawlessly at his command. It hugged the parkway's curves and dips like a pro even as Drake dared to push the accelerator beyond the comfortable 40 miles per hour speed limit an additional 15 miles per hour. The handling was not as agile as his Porsche 911 but far exceeded his Jag F-type he also owned back in Philly. This coupe did not have the gullwing doors of his old SLS, but it was by no means a pushover. It sounded aggressive and responded as he liked even when he dared speed around traffic as if it moved in slow motion and him in real-time.

The lush green scenery whizzing by distracted Zillah with pleasant memories. As a child, she always loved riding shotgun with her father. Dad said it helped him to unwind after a long day of stressful work in his good paying government job, and Zillah always asked to come along. She loved being in Dad's company even if they never said much to each other during car time. It soothed her to sit beside him and having that quiet time alone with him. It was their time merely to enjoy the ride.

When they came upon the thick forests of the GW Parkway (and they always took a ride through there before heading home), Zillah would be mesmerized by glimpses of the Potomac River the roadway followed. Even at that distance from the city, it looked so clear. Large homes dotted the thicket of trees along the landscape she could barely peek through. Often, she wondered how the owners ever reached their houses on the steep rolling hills leading down to the river. Not so much today but back then Zillah did and wondered what kind of people lived in such homes. Today, she imagined they were people like Mr. Lachlan. People of power who took what they wanted without consequence to anything else. Not much had changed about the road since she was a kid, and that pleased her. It remained one of her favorites for sightseeing.

"So, what did you expect my answer to that action to be? I don't like to be ignored, Miss Crawford."

Zillah heard his amused retort but refused to be baited. It didn't stop her from commenting. "Obviously, someone needs to train you on manners, Mr. Lachlan. Just because you don't get your way does not, by all means, give you the right to manipulate the situation until you do."

Drake shrugged with nonchalance. "Manners? I have been trained in the best schools my father's money could ever buy to rear impeccable ones," he boasted with a surprising air of bitterness that made her glance at him. Mr. Lachlan faced the road, nothing revealed to her from his expression. His voice had been different. She frowned, guessing that she struck some chord there.

"Too bad that didn't include how to take no for an answer."

"I would if you meant it."

Zillah snorted a mocking laugh. "Your arrogance offends me."

"And your continued resistance annoys me. I'll say we're even."

"What do you want from me?" she asked with a downturned mouth.

"Your help as I said."

Zillah narrowed her eyes at him because she doubted that was the real reason he wanted her to come with him. "Sounds like a ploy of your newest plan of manipulation."

Drake lifted the eyebrow closest to her without looking away from the road. "And I thought you were a Christian? You sound of so little faith."

"My faith is in God. _Not_ in man."

"We are but reflections of our father in heaven, aren't we?"

"And on earth," she murmured and looked back out her passenger window.

Drake stiffened in alarm as he looked at her and then away. It was just as well. He didn't know why she would make such a comment. It disturbed him more than he cared for and so he chose to move on to another subject. Anything other than the one they dwelled on that instant.

"Why do you think the worst of me?" he inquired with curiosity. In memory, Drake never had so much trouble with attracting the attention of females, yet with his peacock, he needed his wits sharp. Perhaps it was because she knew so much about him? Too much about his motivations or the inner man he kept close that not many saw or he dared to express?

In terms of his extravagant lifestyle, it never bothered his other pursuits. Most thrived in the limelight with him for a minute, before fading into the shadow of past lovers. They were willing enough to engage him once his interest was known while it lasted, which was never long. Drake bored easily and sought the excitement of a new chase, a new love interest. In that way, Drake was much like his father.

"Because lately, you've risen to the occasion."

"You are so resistant when we both know you don't want to be."

She snorted again and glared at him as if it were obvious why. "For good reason."

"Which is?"

"Uhhh, how about me not being interested?"

Drake chuckled lightly in his disbelief. "Didn't seem that way last night or the first time at the club."

Sighing deeply knowing he would go there, Zillah shook her head slowly. "What I'm not interested in is being involved with some rich playboy who decides that I would be a great new plaything for his pleasure of the week. No thanks. I'll pass."

"What makes you think I'm doing that?" His growing smile, he could not seem to put away. Miss Crawford did amuse him more than most. Perhaps that was her charm? Her unwillingness to behave as others have in fawning over his presence.

"Isn't that what you've been doing with every supermodel you've dated?"

Drake glanced at her knowing that she had a point, but he couldn't see what was wrong with that. "Maybe."

Zillah gave him a flat look knowing better. "That redhead clearly is seeing some action from you at the way she pawed you during the party."

"Is that jealousy I hear?" he questioned with mild interest.

"Only stating it like I see it."

"Funny that to me it sounds as if you like me more than you care to admit."

"Is this kind of arrogance born or learned to believe _every_ woman wants you?" Zillah was unsure that she had ever met someone so insufferable in all her life.

Drake looked to her directly with his smoldering gaze and the upward quirk of his shapely lips at her. "Maybe not everyone, but I know for a fact you do."

"No."

"I can see your pulse racing at your throat in excitement, Zillah. The way you lick your lips, inviting me to kiss you," he observed with the lick of his lips in response.

"No!" she snapped angrily.

"You're fighting it, but it doesn't change what is."

Zillah lifted her chin and gazed away from him. She chose to ignore his observations that disturbed her and made her heart patter that much faster. "By your own admission, you go to the private club more than once."

He nodded his agreement. "I do."

"For action beyond what that redhead does for you. And, then there's stupid me who keeps getting caught up with you like a fish in a net. Just a fling like any number of others you've had."

"I told you—"

She held up her hand and shook her head adamantly. "I don't care what you do because none of it matters to me anyway. The point is I am not the girl for you. I keep telling you this if you'd only clear out your ears and listen."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Zillah rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. "Tell me what help you need so I can get back to my life."

"Go back to what? Work? Some _life_. You make no time for anything other than that."

"How I choose to live is none of your business."

He shook his head, ignoring her with a little frown. "You're always so busy. For once, stop being so uptight and let life happen."

"I am not uptight!" she snapped crabbily.

"Let your hair down. Cut loose. What's wrong with that?"

"It leads to mistakes that don't bear repeating."

Drake chuckled with more amusement. "Us meeting could never be a mistake, peacock. Just like the way it feels when we make love."

She glared at him angrily. "Don't call me that."

He shook his head at the fire in her eyes. Her anger only made him want her more. Beneath it all, Miss Crawford felt the attraction licking off between them. He merely chose to face and accept it for what it was while she continued to deny it and run from him.

"I'm quite fond of it. It suits you."

"Where are you taking me?" Zillah glared away from him when he decelerated and took the exit for Chain Bridge Road. They still headed north until the man turned the yellow sports car left on Kirby Road. When he failed to answer her, she turned to him more fully. "What are we doing in Virginia?"

Five more minutes passed without him answering her while Mr. Lachlan drove. "Are you going to sit there and ignore me?" she fumed with the clench of her jaw.

He slowed at the approach of the gated entrance of a home with soft canary brick walls encasing it. Driving through the open gate, Mr. Lachlan coasted a half a mile down a paved drive to the approach of a sprawling two-story brick mansion with the cutest manicured shrubbery she'd ever seen. She noted the "For Sale" sign on the side of the property and looked around more confused. He stopped the car in front of the house and cut the engine. A winning smile spread on his handsome face.

"We're here," he announced before getting out.

Zillah stared dumbfounded at her surroundings when he opened her car door. He bent a little and offered his hand. "Walk with me and stretch your legs a bit."

"What's going on?" There was a suspicious squint of her eyes.

"Just take my hand and come on."

Hesitantly Miss Crawford did, and he helped her out of the car. However, Drake did not let go of her hand even after she sought to pull it away. "Come. Let's look inside."

Zillah resisted trying to tug back her hand. "Why?"

"I want your opinion."

" _This_ is why you needed my help?" Miss Crawford snatched her hand out of his in disbelief of his nerve. "To look at _houses_?"

Drake nodded at her hopefully and smiled. "Yes."

"You've got to be kidding me. Of all the asinine, inconsiderate—" she grumbled before being cut off.

"It's a big investment, wouldn't you say?" he asked, unfazed by her gripes for they amused him more than anything else. No one pursuit in memory had ever done anything like that toward him in his presence. This woman did not operate the way he would have thought.

"Of course, but--" Zillah replied in protest because she thought his need for her dealt with something regarding the deal between their companies or one of her proposals. Not some personal matter that he could better attend to himself.

Drake cut her off again, "And normally Judy, my assistant, is here to help with such things, but she's back in Philadelphia, regrettably. She's examined the site layouts unseen in-person to weed out the unlikely properties she knew wouldn't interest me given by your real estate agent contact. This is one of the properties from the approved list."

"Linda... oh," Zillah said with surprise, not realizing that he had used her friend to help find him a home. Linda must have been thrilled to death at the whale of a client thrown her way. McLean, Virginia had some pricey homes, and Linda stood to earn a hefty commission. "I didn't realize you used her after all."

The side of his mouth quirked up. "I encourage discretion, Miss Crawford, in all that I do believe it or not."

She lifted her eyebrow at him with her hands on her hips. "I don't believe it according to the tabloids."

"Don't believe everything you read. Most of it is lies or only one side of the truth, but never the whole picture."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that there are two sides to a story. Yours reads the same every time, though." He walked up the four short stairs to the front door and opened it for her with a gesture for her to enter before him. His expression held no offense. He merely smiled with amusement that pressed adorable dimples in his cheeks. Seeing it infuriated her more, because of the response her body made against her wishes. She glared him square in the handsome face. "I am _not_ sleeping with you again, Mr. Lachlan. Do you hear me?"

Drake nodded as his smile grew, and his eyes filled with dark mischief. He said not a word because he had other ideas concerning that.

Zillah walked on, liking the openness of the floor plan. From the outside, it looked humongous, but inside she found the rooms rather small. "You like entertaining, and often have friends over. It doesn't look like this space is conducive for that," she said thoughtfully as she looked around with her serious face.

"Yes, and more to the point, there's a business dinner I intended to hold soon for some close associates who are visiting from abroad next week. I'd like to have someplace for them to stay until our business is concluded."

Zillah shook her head. "Then there's the proximity of the house to the busy street. While it is walled and gated, it just feels too close to the road. And the neighbors are almost on top of you." She looked out the large picture windows and shook her head again. "For a man who likes privacy, you won't get much of it here." Zillah glanced back at him when he didn't seem to gaze at anything but her. "What?"

"You seem to know what I like very well. I don't know why then you find it so hard to believe I like you."

Miss Crawford walked away from him and out of the house. "I never said I didn't think you liked me. What I said was I'm not the girl for you."

Drake followed behind her with his crooked smile. "What if you're wrong?"

Turning to him at the passenger side of his car, she informed, "Don't buy this one. You won't be happy here."

He opened the car door for her, and she slid in. Shaking his head with a sigh of pleased amusement, he shut it for her and retook the driver's seat. "One down."

Zillah glanced at him sharply. "How many?"

"Not many. Promise."

Chapter Fifteen

In two hours, they examined one house in Bethesda, another in Potomac, Maryland before returning to Northern Virginia. They entered a secluded drive, ungated but obscured by trees, a few evergreens, and tall shrubbery. The two-story house emerged of stucco design with large picture windows and dark tan roof. When Mr. Lachlan stopped the car in front of the house and went to cut the engine, Zillah touched his hand to halt him.

"There's no need to look at this one," she commented with the shake of her head. "The answer is no. You would never choose such a house unless you were drunk." She tilted her head at him for a second. "On second thought, I don't think you would allow such poor control of yourself."

"Are you sure?"

"About the drinking?" Zillah nodded. "Absolutely."

Drake shook his head and chuckled in amusement. "And the house? You don't even want to look at it?"

She looked to him and then at the property. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Very well."

Drake drove off the property without protest and headed back the way they came. When reaching Chain Bridge Road, they made a right. They passed GW Parkway but at the very next street made a left. Woods and wildflowers in bloom greeted them along the roadside of Crest Lane. Driving at a modest 25 miles per hour was hard for Drake, but he managed since the signs posted said that it was radar enforced. It gave a great opportunity for Miss Crawford to review the other properties they encountered along the way. None were visible through the trees accompanied by long gated drives.

The road seemed to run parallel to GW Parkway and have more two-story or sprawling ranch-style homes with attractive windows dotting it. These homes were gated, too, but nothing that she believed suited Mr. Lachlan's style. They drove for a time down Crest Lane that seemed rather narrow with trees when they took a separate road to the right. The feeling of being closed in continued because of the lack of light, and Zillah felt glad for the daylights to keep them well lit. The trees thinned a little to a large gated property they coasted through since the gate was open. Further along this path, they drove without a view of any neighbors, the trees gave way to a large two-story stone home that made her suck in a sudden breath.

This house had a massive circle of stone centered with a granite pond and verdant shrubbery around it. The trees had been hemmed back to offer a lush green lawn with more landscaping she found very complimentary to this hidden jewel. When Mr. Lachlan stopped the car, Zillah didn't even wait for him to open the door for her. She could not wait to have a better look at the Victorian castle before her rather than a modern mansion she expected and had reviewed so far. With the mixture of limestone against a dark slate roof, the home appeared to be out of some fairytale with its four turrets or maybe someplace in Europe rather than being less than a half-hour from downtown Washington, D.C.

Zillah didn't wait for him as she strolled the stone path that led to the front door, which was arched full of doubled windows encased in dark wood. She opened the door and entered the grand foyer, which made her gasp again. The most beautiful multi-tier chandelier hung from what had to be an 11-foot ceiling. At her feet laid marble floors. In view, she saw the arch of a stairwell of such ornate black iron she felt sure that she had been transported somewhere else. Hardwood flooring appeared elsewhere except in the bedrooms, which were carpeted. Huge walk-in closets for every bedroom, private baths of such exquisite design she continued to gasp in awe of all.

The basement was something unbelievable. It held a wet bar and wine cellar as well as what could only be a home theater and space for billiards she was sure. More marble and hardwood flooring could be found there. All trim and moldings on the walls and ceilings appeared handcrafted. The cabinetry was chestnut offering warmth throughout. She could see the potential for the wide-open spaces around more than a few stone fireplaces viewed and knew that the home was by far the best of all.

"Come. Have a look at the backyard," Drake invited as she walked out the French doors onto the stone veranda that literally stole her breath.

The master bedroom also had the same French door, and she could see that it had its own balcony above. The backyard extended out for a bit before it sloped downward which was why there were French doors down at the basement level too leading outside to an enormous green lawn with bits of shrubbery and beyond the line of trees she was sure the Potomac River resided. Closing her eyes, she could imagine she heard it rumbling by. With the look of not having neighbors for miles, all seemed so peaceful.

"Do you like it?" he asked, noting her expression did not seem quite so dour.

"Oh, Drake, it's beautiful," she gushed with genuine enthusiasm when she touched his arm and nodded her approval. "This is the one!"

Drake nodded with a sigh at the sound of his name on her lips and the sweetness of her smile toward him. Pleased, he took her hand in his and said, "Walk with me." He never waited for her consent, and she followed after him. Leading the way down the patio steps, they walked on a stone path.

Zillah followed behind him with a frown. "Where are we going now?"

At the end of the walk, she noticed something near the bushes. He picked up a picnic basket and blanket rolled between the handles.

"What is this?" she asked in confusion since it was an odd place to keep such items.

"We're celebrating."

"Celebrating what?" she asked, puzzled.

"Welcome to my new home."

Zillah snatched her hand away from him and stopped walking. "What?!"

"I signed the papers this morning. This house is mine."

"If you already chose it, then why the pretense...?" She stopped talking on her own and narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "You planned this from the beginning. You never needed my help. You only wanted to get me here alone."

Drake shook his head and rolled out the blanket. "Right here, you think?" He looked around and smiled with the press of those adorable dimples. His dark eyes glittered with mischief. "Yeah, I think this is perfect. Good choice," he responded to himself as he sat down and then peeked into the top of the picnic basket. Finding a bottle of Bollinger champagne, he promptly popped the cork.

Zillah ducked the flying projectile as he chuckled because he sent it far in the opposite direction, making sure to point the bottle both away from him and her. She then watched him fill two flutes with the golden bubbly that made her mouth water. She needed a drink all day in part because he was the cause.

"Celebrate with me?" he asked adorably sounding so coy and innocent, but there was nothing _innocent_ about this man or his intentions. Evidently, Mr. Lachlan still didn't care about her own opinion on the subject of free will.

Zillah shook her head at the heat of his dark eyes, and the sexy profile he presented in his slim-fit suit that hugged his slender features so well while stretched comfortably on the red checkered blanket. He flashed that winning smile that brightened by the moment and already Zillah felt herself caving. She knew that she should deny him what he wanted, but didn't know if she had the strength. She was going to try her best to fight temptation. God help her!

"Admit it," she ordered, attempting to sound as cold and detached as Mr. Lachlan did when they first met.

Drake stared at her for a moment, wondering what she meant. "I admit to wanting your help, which is true. I know from your reaction that I made the right choice. I trust your instincts."

Her eyes narrowed even more. "So you attempt flattery now to see how far it'll get you?"

"Truth only, Zillah," he said seriously and then gestured to the spot beside him. "Please. Sit down. I know you must be hungry. I know I am. It's been a busy day."

She sighed as she looked around at the perfect seclusion of the spot as she rubbed her arms. The day was overcast but bright. The weatherman on WUSA channel nine said that they should expect some showers that afternoon and she wondered if he might have been right this time.

Zillah looked at Mr. Lachlan, and once more, he offered her the champagne. "Sit with me," he coaxed in gentle command, his eyes magnets that she could not pull away from no matter what she did or how she fought.

Her mouth felt so dry as she licked her lips. Downing some sweet champagne sounded good right about now. At the growl of her stomach, she wondered what other goodies were in that oversized basket. She hadn't eaten since breakfast. Lowering to her knees slowly, she sat on the blanket next to him as far away from him as possible. She took the flute he offered, and then he clinked his glass with hers.

"To new beginnings," he said with a sip without taking his eyes from hers.

Zillah frowned at him wondering of her mistake, but it was too late now. She drank the champagne, which was cool and marvelous in its notes of strawberry and caramel. She drank more, not bothering with sipping because she was thirsty, but found it hard to be satisfied.

Drake pulled out what looked to be jumbo shrimp on round trays of ice and triangles of finger sandwiches with the crust chopped off just the way he liked it. Judy thought of everything, which was why he paid her so well. Smiling, he ate his sandwich of chicken salad and looked over his property very pleased with the view. It turned out to be a lovely day, indeed, and in part due to his company. Drake refilled his flute and gestured the bottle at her. Miss Crawford offered up her glass as she gazed only at the liquid and closed her eyes when he stopped so she could take her newest drink.

"Good?" he wondered already knowing the answer after he took a sip from his flute.

"Hmmm." She bit shamelessly into the crusty bread of the chicken salad sandwiches. They tasted like heaven had been mixed in with the thin slices of strawberries in the sandwiches. Together their offering to her taste buds ushered a sweet and tangy flavor. The nutty quality of the champagne really set off so many rich flavors on her palate, too. Zillah had no idea she was so hungry or would have enjoyed the meal so well despite the company she kept. Before she knew it, the two of them finished the food and bottle of champagne.

With the close of her eyes, Miss Crawford rubbed her neck with a sigh in the quiet of this place. Drake gently pushed her hands aside and began massaging her shoulders. Glaring back at him, she tensed in suspicion. "What do you think you're doing?"

He rose his hands in surrender while sitting on his knees behind her. "Calm down, peacock. I'm not making a move."

"Doesn't feel that way." She rubbed her neck in a wince. "And I told you before to stop calling me that."

He lifted his dark eyebrow at her with a half-smile. "If I made a move on you, there'd be no doubt what I was doing."

Zillah licked her lips suddenly but blinked up into his eyes after looking at his hands. She guessed he was probably right about that. Regardless, she knew better to trust him.

"You're all tense and have been all day." He pointed down at her shoulders over the top and back. "It's all in your shoulders. I could feel the knots, Zillah. Let me bring you some relief," he offered in his same calm tone.

Frowning at him and his hands he held open to her, she wanted to believe him but knew he was not above manipulation to have his way. "Hands only."

"Of course," he conceded with a nod and full smile that pressed those cute dimples in his cheeks.

She turned around and bowed her head. "Okay."

Slowly she felt his large warm hands at her shoulder and was immediately struck with another memory of his hands last night. Giving her head a little shake because she could not go there, Zillah tried to focus on something else. Her breathing maybe. With time, that was better.

Mr. Lachlan's thumbs kneaded her right shoulder and then the left. He then met both hands in the middle of her back. Despite her clothes in the way, Zillah still could feel the heat of his hands. When he touched her neck gently but with firm strokes of his thumbs, she relaxed with a groan.

"Hmmm, that's the spot there," he commented still kneading her gently.

"Yes," she admitted in a whisper and then moaned with the roll of her shoulders. Suddenly, he removed his hands altogether, and the pleasure of them left as well. She almost fell back toward their owner if she hadn't caught herself with each hand at her side.

"Better?" he asked knowingly.

She turned her body to face him as he sat on his knees. Slipping off her shoes, Zillah thrust her foot at him. "All's forgiven if you do the same thing to this." She wiggled her toes at him.

Drake smiled adorably with the press of dimples in his cheeks. "Hmmm...feeling used here, Miss Crawford."

"Stop faking," she said as she leaned back on the blanket with straight arms propping her up. "You know you're liking every moment of having permission to touch me."

"I cannot say my hands are displeased," he responded in honesty as he lifted her foot to his lap.

Miss Crawford wore stockings another favorite of his, but for this work, he preferred skin to skin contact. That would have been too presumptuous to remove them. Drake doubted that she would allow it anyway. He kneaded her foot as it was: stockings and all. More slowly, his thumbs stroked her despite the barrier. Like her neck and shoulders, his magic digits found all the kinks and tightness and worked them out in increments. The slow yet varied pressure of his hands running over her heel, the arch and the ball of her foot offered pleasured relief.

Zillah wanted to be quiet and endure his warm hands in silence. Instead, each building moment of release from her tension caused moans surfaced from her lips. She couldn't hold them in, no matter how she tried otherwise.

"Doesn't that feel better?"

She offered her other foot with a sweet smile. "Do the same to this one, and I think you can bank on it."

Drake repeated the technique of the first foot on the second. By the time, he was done and looked to lower her foot next to the other, Miss Crawford laid on her back with one arm under her head, and the other draped over her middle. Her full mouth parted, and her eyes were closed. Smiling, he noted that her chest rose and fell regularly.

With the shake of his head, Drake moved the picnic basket aside and laid next to her on his back. He watched her sleep for moments on end, stunned by the happiness that reigned in him right now. No explanation came to him for it banishing his boredom, only that Miss Crawford was the cause.

What could he do about this to convince her that this should happen? Clearly, they were attracted to each other. So what her company worked for his! Although Drake was not one to engage in affairs at work, in this instance, he didn't care about their business relationship. In fact, he was grateful for it. He might have never come to know her otherwise in the way he already did if not for her being sent to him.

Chapter Sixteen

Zillah awakened with a gasp at the crack of thunder overhead and thought the storm was a dream. When the downpour began, she knew the truth. Outside in a rainstorm, she laid on the ground. Beside her, Mr. Lachlan appeared sound asleep until she shook him awake. He roused with a glance around before looking up to the dark clouds in the sky with the rain falling upon them harder than before.

Both of them leaped their feet in a hurry. Mr. Lachlan removed his suit jacket and handed it to her. Without a fight, she took it and immediately brought it over her head. She tried her best to use it to shield from the cold rain as the temperature felt to drop. He, on the other hand, scooped up the blanket and picnic basket before making a run for his car. With a shoe in each hand, Zillah followed him. He saw her into his vehicle first, opened the hatchback trunk to shove the picnic basket and blanket inside before slamming it shut. He jogged to the driver's side and settled into his seat.

They looked to one another panting for breath, with their clothing plastered to their bodies, each soaked with rain that poured down harder. Zillah burst out laughing, and Mr. Lachlan joined her for they looked quite the pair of drenched cats. He then started the car and the heater with the rub of his hands together. Both felt the chill of the rain. It wasn't long before Zillah began sneezing as she curled up with his wet jacket.

Somehow, the ride lulled her to sleep again because when next she woke, she shivered and sneezed in Mr. Lachlan's arms as he maneuvered her through spacious halls of luxury. Her head hurt because she couldn't breathe through her nose, which was stuffed up. She felt to be burning up also.

"I need to go," she protested with the shake of her head, but Mr. Lachlan settled her down in a bathroom of pristine marble.

"Hush, Zillah," he chided gently as he unbuttoned the front of her suit. "You need to get out of these wet clothes. You're catching a cold."

"What about you?" she asked while looking up into his eyes that were hot with his desire, but his look was stern too.

"I've a robust constitution, but right now, I'm only concerned about you. You look flushed probably with fever."

Zillah touched her forehead with the back of her hand and nodded, knowing that he was right. A lot of pressure stacked behind her sinuses like a wall making her eyes tear up each time she tried to breathe through her nose. All the while, she shivered, and her body ached at her joints. Sapped of energy, she swayed a bit on her feet.

Catching her at the elbow, Mr. Lachlan steadied her near as he peeled her jacket from her. Zillah had no energy to fight, but she tried as he gently pushed her hands away. He stripped her out of her remaining clothing so quickly, leaving her feeling quite exposed. When sure he would make his move and take advantage of her weakness, he left her for a moment only to return. Standing before her once more, Mr. Lachlan pulled a white T-shirt over her head, which she automatically pulled her arms through. By her tiny waist, he hoisted her up on the marble vanity marble. At her bare feet, he kneeled to slip on a pair of white socks. Lowering her once again to her feet, he immediately wrapped her in a thick cotton robe, which did wonders to chase away the shivers.

Drake proceeded to reach for her hair, which was drenched and still running with dampness. He unpinned it and found that it was a hairpiece at the back of her head. With her damp hair free, he could not help but run his hand through it. He pulled out a blow-dyer and dried it for her to her shock. She looked to him through the mirror, but he focused on her even as his own hair needed drying and wet clothing changed.

Looking to her own face, she could see what he saw. The redness of her pale eyes and the puffiness around them. She blew her nose with a tissue she snagged from the box of them situated between the twin vanity sinks. No... this was not the ideal woman anyone would seek to seduce even if desperate.

When her hair was dry, he guided her back to the bedroom and turned down the covers for her of the king-sized bed. Robe and all, she climbed into it, feeling warm and so tired. Zillah didn't remember closing her eyes, but soon felt a hand gently shake her. When she opened her eyes, she found Mr. Lachlan leaning over her still wearing his wet clothes and his damp hair drying on its own.

"I have some medicine that will make you feel better. Can you sit up?" he asked, gently touching her forehead, cheek, and then her throat.

Zillah closed her eyes and tried but shook her head when she could summon no strength. "I'm so tired."

"I know." He helped her sit up. "Open for me," he said as he pushed pills to her mouth. She took them and swallowed. Then she felt a glass to her lips. Cold liquid came, and she drank as much as she could until she coughed, shaking her head. Her burning eyes, she pulled open for a moment and saw his worried expression.

"Can I sleep now?" she questioned tiredly.

He nodded and lowered her back down. Zillah believed sleep came before she even closed her eyes. Her dreams were odd and fevered. Filled with dark brown eyes and olive skin, spice, and fire. When she awoke suddenly, unsure where she laid, all was dim with lamp light at her side. She touched the robe she wore frowning at where she could be.

When she saw Mr. Lachlan enter the spacious bedroom of sophisticated elegance, she gasped. He no longer wore a suit but an open white robe over a fitted dark t-shirt with matching cotton pants. His medium-length hair had been combed away from his forehead. In his hands, he carried a tray.

"So you have awoken," he observed with a warm smile.

"Not long." She sat up in alarm, but the effort made her break into a sweat. She leaned heavily against the quilted headboard and pillows.

Drake sat beside her with the tray of food in his lap. "Still don't trust me?"

"Why should I?" Zillah inquired without looking at him as she gathered her strength with a mild pant.

Drake moved the tray to her lap. He took up the bowl of chicken noodle soup. Dipping the spoon within, he filled it with broth he blew for her before presenting it to her full lips. "You need to keep your strength. Open for me."

"I don't need to be fed like some infant," she snapped crabbily when her eyes peeled open.

"But like an infant, you need someone to take care of you, Zillah," Drake reasoned without offense. She amused him still.

"No, I don't!"

He shook his head. "For once in your life, don't argue, and eat."

Zillah stared him down but did not obey.

"Open your mouth, Zillah. Please?" he cajoled sweetly.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Will you eat?"

She took the offered spoon into her mouth. The soup was warm and good going down. When Mr. Lachlan dipped the spoon back in the soup and offered it to her again, she did not deny it. Again, Zillah took it and tried not to pay any attention to the look of pleasure on his face.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"So you'll feel better. You'll need to take more medicine soon but should eat first."

"Why am I here and not my house?"

"Much easier to take care of you here than there." He shrugged and offered her another spoonful of soup.

"Uh-hmmm. Right." She ate more of it.

"What?" He scooped more soup for her. "I could not be any more sincere about my intentions."

"There is nothing innocent about this or you."

Drake shook his head. "Wow. So ready to think the worst about me. Believe it or not, all I've said to you is the truth." He offered her another spoonful of soup.

She held up her hand. "You are also manipulative, and cannot seem to take no as an answer for anything. You'd do whatever you could to turn the odds in your favor."

They stared one another in the eye without a word spoken until he queried, "Won't you have some more soup?"

Her nose was runny with the heat of the soup. He offered a tissue from the nightstand, and she took it. After blowing her nose, Zillah could breathe partially through her nose, which made her feel marginally better. She sneezed and blew her nose again with the new tissue he offered.

"Bless you," he said with a warm smile.

She tossed the used tissues into the wastebasket before looking to her handsome host again. Mr. Lachlan still held the spoonful of soup up toward her lips. She looked at it and then him skeptically.

"Won't you have some more?" he coaxed in a friendly tone.

Zillah sighed in wonder of this man who operated with an ulterior motive. He did not confess it, but she knew he did. Why go through all the trouble of having her look at a house he already bought? And he wondered why she didn't want to be with him?

"What do you want from me?" she asked, searching his mysterious dark eyes.

"To finish your soup."

She sighed again but nodded. "Fine." Zillah took the soup he offered until done. She slipped back down under the covers feeling content and shut her eyes. Allowing her sleep, Mr. Lachlan decided to leave her alone. Before he left the room with the tray, he placed the glass of water and medicine on the nightstand and tucked her in.
Chapter Seventeen

Some unknown time later, Zillah awoke to use the bathroom. All was dark. Remembering that she was not home, she fumbled by the nightstand for the lamp and switched it on to illuminate the luxurious bedroom. She recalled where the bathroom was, finished her business with the toilet, and washed her hands.

Upon her return to the warm bed shivering, she found Mr. Lachlan waiting by it. He offered her the pills first. Zillah looked at them and then him skeptically. Without protest this time, she took them and then followed them with the glass of water he also had. Mr. Lachlan nodded to her with a pleased smile and then helped her back to the bed. Zillah sighed in the pleasure of turning on her side once more, encompassed in warmth again. As before, he tucked her in and then shut off the lamp beside the bed before leaving the room.

Bright light greeted her eye when next she woke, and she tried to duck her head more under the covers that were white and so soft and warm. When she peeled her eyes open, wondering the time of day for such bright light, she turned and found the alarm clock that illuminated with an astonishing sight. It told her it was 1:00 PM. She sat straight up, blinking at the clock.

"What the heck?"

Next to the clock, she saw more medicine and water with a note that said: "Please take me." Her head ached mildly, but she felt considerably better than she had last night. They must have caught the cold right at the cusp of it with the medicine. She rubbed her head and then touched the robe she still wore.

Mr. Lachlan had been something she hadn't seen before. A gentleman. He made no move on her just as he said that he wouldn't. Instead, he took care of her. He got her warm, fed, and medicated before putting her to bed. Even stranger than that, despite spending time with her, sleeping with her and only that not sex, he never pressed to repeat their trysts. Zillah still wondered what he was up to and if... No. She shook her head, not even trying to go there.

She walked toward the bedroom door and opened it. More of the executive suite of the Willard opened up to her that she recalled glimpses of during her fevered dreams. She wondered where Mr. Lachlan was. When she found him, she noticed that he was not alone. The supermodel redhead stood with him very close, but they were not touching.

"I'm so sorry for my behavior on Saturday, Tomcat," the supermodel apologized while staring up at him.

Mr. Lachlan looked to her with a shrug patting his forehead with a towel. "Water under the bridge."

"So still friends?" she asked with the tilt of her head.

He nodded with a smile. "Of course."

"And our wager?"

The smile disappeared. "Off the table."

"I see." She drew closer, wearing some sexy green mini-dress as she reached to his face that carried with it a rugged five o'clock shadow. He wore sneakers with a dark t-shirt that clung to him and black athletic shorts showing off muscular, yet lean calves. "No way I could change your mind?"

"Not this time." He shook his head that looked wet from the sweat of his workout, no doubt. He guzzled water from a water bottle. "I guess it's like they say, you must grow up and put away childish things."

"Because of the black—"

He cut her off sharply. "Her name is Zillah."

"Because you've chosen Zillah."

"I choose her, yes."

Sabrina nodded and backed away. "When it ends, you know where I'll be."

He nodded and watched her walk away from him. A door closed not long afterward, and Zillah watched him sigh at length with a grimace. She couldn't believe what she heard or how it thrilled her when she knew it shouldn't. There was no way she could get involved with this man, but to listen to him say that he chose her over the other gorgeous supermodel...wow!

Drake looked to his peacock when he noticed her slow approach. Her pale eyes were not red, and she didn't appear so flushed as he smiled at her softly. "How are you feeling? Better I hope?"

Zillah frowned at him because the closer she came, the more she realized how dangerous he indeed was. He smelled of spices very strongly along with his own scent that seemed riveting. She wanted to lean into that scent and touch the strong lean muscles outlined by his t-shirt. "Today is...?"

"Monday."

She lowered her head, thinking as much. "I'm so screwed. I should've called in well before now."

"They know you're sick and should expect you tomorrow. I had Judy call in for you."

She blinked up at him. "Judy did?"

His smile grew. "My assistant did, yes."

"Oh, yes, of course." She looked at the door where the supermodel left the suite. "I do feel much better now. Thank you."

"Good. I'm sure you must be hungry. I was about to order lunch now that I've had a workout."

"That does sound good, but I think I've worn out my welcome and should head home. If you'd let me know where my clothes are?"

"In the closet of the room you slept in." He stepped closer to her, and she stepped away. "Tell you what. Let me have a shower. You can get dressed, and I'll take you home."

"You seriously don't have to do that. I can get a cab."

"I insist. Besides, your stuff is still in my car."

She thought about it and sighed. "No. You've just had a workout and must be hungry. I am, too, the more I stand here."

"Order whatever you want that you think sounds good and enough for us to share."

Zillah nodded. "Okay."

Mr. Lachlan smiled and then left her to it. She watched him enter a bedroom across from the one he placed her in. She ordered room service from the menu. She ordered a turkey club, a sirloin burger with Pepperjack cheese and two classic Caesar salads. She also ordered them two beers one Sam Adams and the other Blue Moon.

By the time she brushed her teeth and got dressed in her church clothes, a knock sounded at the door. She went to open it, and sure enough room service arrived. She gestured for the young man to enter. He placed the ordered items on the dining room table. Mr. Lachlan emerged from his room wearing a navy candy-striped vest, light blue dress shirt with sapphire cufflinks tucked into dark-fitted jeans and dark tan loafers. His straight dark brown hair still looked wet in the side comb-over style he sported. He left his face with the sexy beard stubble, and Zillah found herself licking her lips.

Drake pulled his wallet from a back pocket as the young hotel staff member approached the door. "Good afternoon, Mr. Lachlan," he greeted with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Curtis," he said as he handed him the $50 bill and walked him out.

"No, thank you, sir. Have a good afternoon."

Once the young man was gone, he turned back to Miss Crawford who settled down at the dining room table before her spread of food. Smiling, he went to the place that was set for him. He rubbed his hands together at how he faired, which was not bad. She even got his choice of beer right. Wonders did never cease.

They ate in silence, but once satisfied, they looked to one another very pleased.

"Thank you," they said together and then chuckled at one another.

"I mean it," she said, looking at her hands for a minute and then looked to his warm dark brown eyes regarding her intensely. "Thanks for everything you did for me."

"You're not used to others taking care of you, are you?"

She shook her head. "That obvious, huh?"

"Not at all." He chuckled with sarcasm she didn't miss.

"That's usually my job, you see. I take care of everyone."

"Your dad and your friends. I can see that. You've always been the responsible one."

She nodded. "I am. I don't lose my cool. I don't do reckless."

"Except in the Underground."

"A dare."

"Ahhh, the infamous dare." He nodded with a spark in his eye she didn't trust. "You can't seem to resist those."

She rolled her eyes. "About the Underground—"

He rolled his eyes when cutting her off, "Please don't tell me again about you being some other girl, peacock."

"Why must you continue to call me that when you know I don't like it?"

"But, I do, and I'll tell you why. Peacocks are beautiful and bold. They are not afraid to show who they are to attract who they want. That is you, Zillah. Beautiful and bold, and I am drawn to you."

She glanced away from him, feeling warmed by his kind words in how he saw her with the shake of her head. Zillah licked her lips at the nerves rising like her pulse right now. "I feel like I've led you on because the girl you met there is not who I am."

"Yes, she is. One aspect of you anyway."

"The one you want," she clarified as she glanced into his eyes.

Mr. Lachlan took time to look her over before he met her eyes again with more heat than previously noted. "I find I'm attracted to all aspects of you."

Zillah shook her head, finding that a little hard to believe. "I'm not a supermodel or a rich heiress. I don't travel the elite circles either except to shop for a client."

He sipped his beer with a chuckle. "I like that you're not, and don't seem to care that I'm rich."

"I like to hang with my friends and enjoy the simple things in life like helping out at church, and spending time with family. I work a lot, that's true because my career is important to me. I'm ambitious but honest. I've worked really hard to accomplish the things I have in life. So, I don't waste time in anything I do."

He sipped more of his beer. "We have that in common. I don't like to waste time either."

"My time is the most precious thing I have and can give to someone. That said, I like to keep it real and my men serious."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Flings are not the norm or a way of life for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging if someone else chooses that for themselves. It's not something I want."

"How do you know? Have you tried?"

Zillah smiled at the curiosity in his eyes. "I like depth to my relationships, Mr. Lachlan. If I'm gonna spend time with a guy, I should like him, beyond the sex. I would hope that our attraction reaches beyond what I can see of his body, hair, or eyes. I would hope he can stimulate more of my mind, too, by holding a conversation beyond the customary dirty talk."

Drake chuckled again in his amusement. "So you think that's what I pursue...flings with women I don't like beyond a hedonistic level?"

"Don't you?" she asked with the lift of her eyebrow as she stared at him directly. It seemed that way to her from some of the articles she read on him in the tabloids.

Drake stared back just as directly. "I date. Some of those interactions could be called flings, but definitely not all of them. What I feel with you, for example, doesn't feel like one."

"Doesn't it? You're not looking for something serious, are you? Flings always have satisfied you in the past, and I'm sure that will continue here in DC or back in Philly."

"I don't know about that." He couldn't say that many of his flings ever did. Though temporary, he preferred this relationship by far. They tended to be less boring, and more ranged for his particular appetites. In truth, he looked forward to exploring something like that with Miss Crawford, and still did.

"It wasn't that way with the redhead then?"

"I didn't say that, but—"

Zillah shook her hand at him, not seeking an explanation of what it was with that other woman. She really didn't want to know. The part of the conversation that most interested her was where Mr. Lachlan made it clear he chose Zillah. That certainly had to count for something, right? Her rational mind would not allow her to. "Look, I'll be the first to admit that I've had fun, okay? Being with you at the Underground ... wow. It was great. I'd have to be dead not to be attracted to you besides, but I don't have the time or energy for something that's not real. I can't live in a fantasy."

"This is real, Zillah." He reached for her hand, resting on the table, and she glanced into his eyes with her distress.

"You say that now, but what about a month from now when the newness wears off, and you feel bored? You'll want to cheat, and then it'll be over."

Drake stared at her, stunned by her perception. Perhaps she did see him better than he thought. "We can't predict the future."

Zillah pulled her hand away from his with the shake of her head and sat a little straighter. She didn't know what the heck she was thinking. Disappointment entered her eyes. "I can. Trust me. It'll be tragic." She closed her eyes. "I'd fall in love with you. Big surprise there, right? What woman has not been swept away by your charms? You're perfect in every way but one. You will never love me back."

"Zillah..." he whispered with the shake of his head in alarm. In that instant, she sounded so much like a different woman, the same he left Philly for. Nicole was someone he wanted to forget. He clenched his jaw.

Zillah shook her head with a calm look on her face, but her insides churned in nervous knots. She continued speaking as if he had not interrupted. "You're not the loving kind. Certainly not looking for a future that could mean marriage or children someday. You're the playboy, the bachelor for life if you had your way."

"Are you sure about that?"

Zillah nodded. "There's no room for love in that lifestyle, but that's just it. It _is_ in mine." She opened her eyes to his again, and there was determination there and wisdom he could not fathom. "Seriously, we'd be better off to avoid the whole disaster."

"You can't believe that. What if you're wrong?"

"My fling days were done in my 20s. That woman might have been flattered by your attention. A billionaire bachelor interested in me? Wow, sure! Give me some of that! That woman might have taken you up on it and loved every minute of the ride until you picked up and found someone else, but not the woman I am now in my 30s."

"What do you mean?"

"I am only looking forward now, not back. I want more now."

"What specifically do you want in a man?"

"He's someone who's as serious as I am about building a future on mutual values, morals, dreams. Building on something real because that's all I will make time for. I refuse to settle for anything less. I didn't with my last boyfriend. I'm not going to with you no matter how much you try to charm or seduce me."

His mouth quirked up in a sexy smile that made her melt with the press of those dimples in his cheeks. "I can be very persuasive."

"And you have been, but you need to understand me. No matter what you do, I will never change. That's why I'm not the girl for you," Zillah said adamantly without looking away from his heated eyes.

Drake leaned forward, considering what she said but found it difficult not to believe that once again, she tried to discount how it intense it was between them. In his mind, she still tried to run. "Can't you at least consider it my way and see how it goes?"

"There's also this whole ethical thing with you being my client that just makes this more complicated and makes me feel even more conflicted. So no. I can't do it." Zillah stood up with a sigh that was neither angry nor upset. She simply looked tired as she tugged down her navy suit jacket. "I'm ready to go home now."

With the clench of his jaw, Drake nodded understanding that this was going to be a lot harder than he imagined. He stood and gestured toward the door. "Very well."
Chapter Eighteen

As a boy, Drake's mother always uttered when frustrated with him, "That pigheaded streak comes from your father."

He would look up at the exotic beauty of his mother's wild eyes with innocence, unsure of what she meant. At his recollection, Mamee could be pretty stubborn, too. She would have never been able to run her successful dance studio in south Philly without some impressive gumption. Drake swore the woman was as fearless as she was beautiful.

Perhaps, that's what he recognized in Miss Crawford. The very thing about her drew him to her beyond the beauty of her curvaceous body and her pale eyes that looked straight into him. Her unguarded honesty disarmed him unlike anything had before.

Drake tried more than once in the last two weeks to pick up the phone to call Miss Crawford since dropping her home that Monday afternoon after buying his home in McLean. Rather than occupy his mind with thoughts of his peacock, he focused on furnishing his new home before the arrival of a number of distinguished guests. He made it a sort of housewarming party/business affair. The result pleased him in that a deal or two fell through.

While he remained as busy as ever, Drake stayed at the Willard during the week out of habit and convenience. Three days out of the week, he found time to enjoy the house once his guests were gone. Often, he found himself looking over the stone veranda at what he considered their spot on the hill where Miss Crawford and he ate their picnic lunch and smiled.

No memory before brought him such simple joy than when he laid beside Miss Crawford watching her sleep after giving her a shoulder and foot massage. She had been great company, amusing him as she always seemed to do, and chasing away the loneliness that astounded him over the last few weeks. He spent time with Leo and Sabrina, yet it wasn't the same. The loneliness lingered while with them or any host of crowds at happy hour every week or at the Underground. Only with his peacock, it vanished, leaving contentment in its place.

After getting drenched in the downpour that followed the picnic, Drake thought of caring for her alone. Miss Crawford fell sick, and it was his fault. His plan was simply to steal some time with her, with the hope she might warm to him. A reward for being chivalrous even crossed his thoughts. Drake never imagined Monday morning when she woke in his bed that she would so eloquently tell him to take a flying leap. Unlike after the charity party, he had a distinct idea of why she continued to walk or rather run away from him.

It puzzled him over the last two weeks. Drake never apologized for his lifestyle. No one who he was interested in cared much about it anyway. They had their own agenda. Most females wanted the fame that followed him with gossip columns and needless attention from tabloids. Others sought the billions he earned like parasites. None really cared enough to know who the real man was, and never took the time to learn. Not the way Miss Crawford did without being prompted. He really didn't want anyone to because in truth he didn't think many would like the real man hidden beneath the wealth and charm.

Drake found her impressive. Miss Crawford wasn't afraid to look beyond the mask and stare past the cold indifference he put on for everyone. She was honest in her interactions. Sexy in how she carried herself. Smart in her profound revelations and observations. Honestly, Miss Crawford had it all, and he could see that her ambitions in life must have cost her many relationships.

If not for work aspirations, Drake was certain some man would have married her and given her children by now. The men she did date were too intimidated or weak to let her shine and support her he was sure. She needed a strong man who could hold his own not in front or behind her but beside her in life. Was Drake that man?

Her terms, such as they were, she coined "serious." Miss Crawford made it clear that while being attracted to Drake, she was willing to walk away because she wanted something that meant the chance of a future. She wanted something real, not a fling. Something that could last or at least the potential for that. Drake didn't live his life with such goals.

The only future he looked at involved the one with his company. Not his love life. Free-flowing or unrestrained was how he liked the latter. Exciting so that it stayed fresh and he didn't lose interest.

Miss Crawford wanted none of these things. She wanted the dreaded more concept, and perhaps that was why he stayed away from such women in the past. Young females adhered to his idea of freedom and thrived on it for a time, which was why he never stayed with them long. Easy to mold, and enslave to his charms, they stood no chance to resist him. No challenge at all if he really thought about it. These pickings were predictable. In the end, so caught up with him, they literally did whatever he commanded.

Such exhilaration marked their complete surrender of control to him. The level of trust his females bestowed him was by far the most intoxicating. Knowing that he wielded such power, Drake was responsible and did not abuse it. He did crave that level of utter control in all things to the extent that it spilled over to dominating everything and everyone around him. A number of his relationships had been that way. Some ended on good terms and others like the last not at all well, but Drake took a step back after the debacle of his previous relationship. He decided that maybe he wanted something different for a change.

Then he found his peacock. Bold, sweet and fresh, so beautiful. Drake could not stop dreaming about her long after their first encounter. Oh, but then the second encounter, and every one after that built on a foundation of desire which consumed him. When he realized his peacock and Miss Crawford were the same, it seemed fated...perfect even. No more waiting did he need to endure because he found her! The one he sought! It seemed the desire born of their first meeting slipped over into the second.

The two of them wanting each other was not isolated but mutual. Sizzling hotter than anything he knew before, Drake hungered for her. The way she gave herself to the moment of his taking, he could never get enough. Fourteen days after they last touched, he hungered for her now.

By neither email nor phone was he successful in following through with contacting Miss Crawford. What could he say to her to change her stubborn mind? He typed: _I miss you_. Drake groaned and backspaced over the words. What assurance could he give her that he was serious about her? What he felt was more than a tryst to satisfy his lust? More than a fling or something temporary?

I think of you endlessly and cannot put you out of my mind.

Drake typed the truth and groaned, clenching his jaw, once backspacing over the words. Drake rubbed his head as he closed his eyes and considered the way he felt when with her, excited, and content. Both emotions were a new concept for him. So at ease in her presence, there was no pretending when with her. No games required. She saw right through everyone.

The way we left things seemed so final.

Drake deleted that line of text typed as well. While he imagined in Miss Crawford's mind, they had to be over, in his he could not let go. That pigheaded streak would not allow him to accept defeat. Females didn't walk away from him besides. Drake controlled every aspect of his life, including when he walked away from relationships business or otherwise. Simply put, he was not ready to walk away from Miss Crawford.

"Sir, you look like you lost your best friend," Judy commented as she walked into his DC office after knocking more than once. Her boss focused his attention on the computer screen. It displayed Outlook email in the midst of a response she gathered before he clicked off the draft and turned to her when she halted before his desk.

Drake looked up to the petite older woman in a hunter green pants suit. Against her peach skin, her new textured pixie hair cut dyed medium auburn, made her look youthful. He certainly preferred it to the pale ash-blond she usually dyed it in prep for summer. Her critical light brown eyes regarded him with worry.

"Not yet," he assured.

"What do you mean?"

Drake leaned back in his management chair for a moment as he leaned on his left side and crossed his legs. He chuckled drily as he looked up at the ceiling briefly in thought. "Mr. Putnam, as far as I know, hasn't asked the blond girl he's dating to marry him yet, but knowing him, it's coming."

Judy blinked at him with the tilt of her head. "Leo's found someone?"

"And is so deep in love I hardly see the man." He chuckled still with the shake of his head as he gazed at her surprised expression. Leo was the last man he thought would be willing to settle down, but from the conversations they've held about Autumn, the woman was as smitten about him as he was for her.

A frown creased deep wrinkles in her fair forehead in sadness. "I'm sorry, sir, I know you both are close."

Drake threw up his hands as he reviewed his assistant, who belonged to his father before him. Little occurred at Cadda without her knowledge, which made her an invaluable asset. It helped that she knew the habits of its most powerful leaders very well. "I stay busy with other friends. Not to worry."

"Of course, sir," Judy said with a bit of skepticism but said nothing contrary. Instead, she asked, "And the house is to your liking?"

He smiled with the show of dimples. "It is. Paulina, the interior designer, you hired again, did a marvelous job to the house in such a short turnaround to keep it lavish but uncluttered the way I like it." Drake gave her a thumbs-up sign. "And what about you and Raymond? Are you enjoying the new house in Maryland?"

Judy nodded with a broad smile. While looking for a home for Drake, she also asked the real estate agent Linda to find a single-family home close to work for her and her husband. She didn't reveal any of this until the matter was settled with her husband and a higher salary could be worked out with Drake, of course, to make it worthwhile.

"We just closed on it, and yes, we couldn't be happier. Raymond was able to transfer on his job to the DC office, and everything worked out fine when he came down this past weekend. Funny how that opening happened so quickly."

Drake winked at her. "Funnier things have happened I'm sure, Judy. I'm glad you're settling in."

"We are and aren't too terribly far from Philly, so it works out. Would be even better if we could sell our old house. We hope our luck holds and we get some nibbles of interest soon."

He raised his eyebrows at her curiously, for she had no papers in her hand. "So did you come in for something or were you just checking on me?"

"Checking on you, sir. I noticed that you've not relinquished the suite at the Willard. Would you like me to talk to Linda about a possible condo for you close to work?"

"The Willard is fine for now. If I change my mind, I'll let you know." He cleared his throat with the clench of his jaw. "Any word on my special project?"

Her frown deepened with a fist on her small hip. "Why are you offering more than the stock is worth to own the financial company anyway? It makes no sense why you would want to acquire it."

"I don't like middlemen and the future of this asset will yield far more than its current worth."

"You sure about that? I'm looking at their numbers, and we're their number one client. They lose us they'd go under."

Drake looked at her mysteriously with a sparkle in his dark eyes. "There's more to life than money, Judy."

Her mouth dropped open in the shock at hearing such a strange thing come from him. Such attainments had been like a religion to the man for the last decade she worked for him. Not even his father before him had been so ambitious or driven. Judy was confident his goal was to be more successful than his father was. To be precise, she knew he attained that goal in his first five years. In the last half-decade, he tried to top his own performance and managed that well too.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my boss?"

Drake laughed at her. "Again, the gain is in the future. Without great risk, there can be no great reward." He sat up straighter with the odd tilt of his head. Smiling brightly, he stood and approached her. She stared up at him curiously. He swept her up in a big hug and kissed her on the cheek.

"Sir?" Judy bristled when he settled her back on her feet once more.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?" she asked, very puzzled by his behavior.

"Making me realize something so fundamental." Drake turned to his desk and reached across it to grab his phone before racing for the door while buttoning his charcoal grey twill suit jacket.

"Sir... you have an appointment due to arrive in the next 15 minutes," Judy called after him with raised auburn eyebrows. His behavior made no sense to her and increased her concern for him.

"Cancel all appointments for the rest of the day." He disappeared through the office door. Nothing could be more important than the revelation made. It seemed so obvious he could kick himself for not seeing it sooner.

On his way to the elevator, Drake pushed the speed dial on his mobile phone still in hand. "Yes, sir?"

"Bring the car around, Juan. I'm on my way down." Smiling bigger than ever, Drake pushed the elevator button, pointed in one direction since he was already on the top floor.

***

Drake arrived at Community MT Financial's 12th-floor offices and smiled at the grey-haired black woman who returned his smile warmly. "How can I assist you, sir?" she asked in a pleasant voice.

"Miss Crawford's office."

She pointed to her right. "It's just down the hall, but Miss—"

Drake walked briskly in that direction. "Yes, thank you."

The black woman followed him, and he continued walking. "Sir—"

"Ahh! Found it. Thank you."

A white woman came from the office with short curly hair to go with her petite frame wearing a dark skirt below her cream sweater. Her eyes were a warm hazel brown. She smiled in curiosity while looking him over. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I was trying to tell him that Miss Crawford is not here," the receptionist said as she approached them.

The younger woman nodded. "No problem. I'll take care of it, Annette."

The receptionist looked to him with a strained smile but left. Drake looked to the office and then the petite white woman before him who exited it. "Is that true? Is Miss Crawford not here?"

She nodded. "Are you a client of hers?"

He nodded. "I am."

She gestured toward herself with a smile. "I'm her assistant, Kathleen. Which client are you?"

"Drake Lachlan."

Her eyes widened, and she fell into her seat at the desk situated before Miss Crawford's office. His peacock's name was on the door with the title of Senior Lead Investment Banker. "Oh."

"I was in the area and wanted to see her. I should have known she would not be here. Can you tell me when she might be free or back in her office today?"

"You don't know?" Kathleen asked as she blinked at him in surprise.

"Know what?"

"She sent a mass email to her clients, letting them know she's on vacation for the next two weeks."

Both Drake's eyebrow rose at this news. So the workaholic did know how to find herself some R & R. Good. "So there's no way to reach her?"

Kathleen shook her head. "I have specific instructions to divert all her clients to other staff who might be available to assist unless there is something I can do for you?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he looked to Miss Crawford's office door. "I'm only interested in speaking with her."

The assistant pointed up as she brightened. "There's her cell number. Have you tried it?"

"Is there no other way to contact her?" he asked with a sigh because he did have her mobile number but could not seem to bring himself to use it. Now that she evidently was on vacation somewhere, he might have to. "As far as you know, I take it that she's not in town at all then?"

Kathleen diverted her gaze from his and wrung her hands uncomfortably. "Well...I..."

Drake held up his hand. "No problem. I'll try the cell number I have, but if you happen to speak to her, please let her know that I tried to reach her." He pulled his card from his inside pocket and wrote his cell number on the back. "Just in case she doesn't have the number, I'll leave it here with you."

"Okay. If I speak to her I'll be sure to pass this along."

"I appreciate that, Kathleen."

She beamed at him with a nod. "You have a good day, sir."

"Same to you. Bye."

"Good-bye."
Chapter Nineteen

Drake walked away from the office building, which held Miss Crawford's office. Disappointment filled him that this reunion of sorts did not work out the way it did in his mind. He was not dissuaded in the least to give up. The challenge made him more determined. He would find her even though she apparently did not want to be disturbed.

Drake arrived at her apartment next. No answer at her door when he knocked. Dammit! Where could Miss Crawford be?

His only hope at discovery would be through her roommate Autumn. Drake knew exactly where Miss Crawford's friend was. She happened to be locked away in love with his best friend, Leo. He would have thought the two of them would have come up for air by now, but no such luck. Leo and Autumn were deeply in love and could not stand to be apart for more than a day or two.

Leo, like Drake, had taken up residence at a hotel when arriving at the Nation's capitol. His choice was the neighboring Hotel Washington to conduct his business within the city. Once engaging with Autumn on a regular basis, Leo found the need to have his own space and so bought a condo downtown near 13th and H Streets. The location gave him an easy commute to work but also allowed him to remain close to home where he could spend quality time with Autumn who from Leo's perspective all but moved in with him. Drake headed to Leo's condo now.

The code for entry had been given to him, and so he used it when he could not raise Leo on his cell phone or in his office. That left the condo as he boldly entered, knowing he would find his answers soon. The surprise was not only on Drake but Leo and Autumn. The two lovers appeared in a most compromising position on the couch.

Leo's lady vigorously bounced herself in a vigorous cowgirl position while gripping the back of the couch. Her mewls sounded interlaced with her lover's moans. In bringing her head up, Draw saw one of Leo's hands gripping her neck while the other squeezed her breast. Autumn opened her dazed eyes and saw she had an audience. She screamed but for a different reason than pleasure by the stunned look on her flushed face. The man beneath her thrust up to meet her with gusto. When he noticed she stiffened, Leo sat up to look in the direction she did. He gaped at Drake and covered her nakedness with his own.

Smiling Drake turned his back and rose his hands at the daggers thrown his way by his friend and his lady.

"Thomas, you wanker! What the bloody hell!" Leo's astounded British lilt shouted at him.

"Sorry, Leo, but I need to see your girlfriend."

"You _what_?!" he boomed.

"Well not naked, of course," Drake defended with an amused chuckle.

"You better not be, or I'll knock you on your arse!"

"No need for violence. I'll be out of your hair in a jiffy so you both can go back to what you were doing. Autumn here just needs to tells me where Miss Crawford is."

"Tom," she said panting from either her excitement or physical exertion he wasn't sure. "You know I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You know why. Zil will kill me."

"You would not know the happiness you have right now if it weren't for me introducing you two. You could at least help a fella out so that he can find his own happiness," he coaxed with a smile she couldn't see.

"Oh, that's not fair! She's my best friend," Autumn said, falling for the bait.

"I know she is, which is what brought me here. I know you know where she is."

She sighed with a hope to reason with him. "I like you, Tom. I really do, but we both know she's not your typical type."

Drake's smile grew as he turned his head to the side. "I'm interested in the atypical."

"Beyond a one-night stand?" Autumn probed in curiosity.

"I wouldn't be here asking after her if I weren't." He turned to her, looking dead serious.

She and Leo sat side by side, sharing a blanket that made them decent. His friend still looked none too pleased. Both of him and his lady were red-faced from their activity and sweating mildly.

"And I'm sorry to interrupt, but all other avenues have failed," Drake relayed with the lift of his arms.

"Why are you so interested? Are you twisted?" she inquired with her head tilted at him in study when he drew closer to them.

Drake stopped short of the couch. "I _want_ her."

Autumn shook her head with a frown. "You realized it's not enough."

"I'm as stubborn as she is, and she can't run away from me, no matter how scary this is."

She snorted a laugh. "Yeah, well good luck with that."

He clenched his jaw. "Autumn, I miss her."

Frowning at him still, she asked, "Do you even know _who_ she is?"

"I'm sure I understand her better than most, and she sees more of me than any in memory."

"Do you even see something beyond attraction?"

Drake clenched his jaw again. "She stimulates every part of me."

Autumn rubbed her sweaty hair from her face. "For how long? She doesn't want games, Tom. You've got to know that. Nothing pisses her off more."

"Is that what you think I'm doing? Playing games?"

Autumn sat back, securing the blanket over her chest. "So your bruised ego doesn't factor in any of this?"

Drake scoffed with the touch of his chest over his heart, "You wound me. Am I so shallow in your eyes?"

She wagged her finger. "Not in mine. _Hers_."

Drake couldn't help but smile. Damn Miss Crawford did know him well. "I know she's perceptive."

Autumn laughed drily with a half-smile. "So you just realized that, huh?"

"So am I."

"Sure, you are. I'm also sure you could find easier tail to chase."

"Easier, true, but not uniquely _her_." Drake shook his head as he considered it. "No one else will do."

"What is it about her that you're so attracted to? She's difficult, opinionated and picky."

"I don't give up on what I want and have been considering this since I last saw her. I want her, Autumn, and I still sort out why in my mind. What is clear to me is that no amount of time that goes by will change that feeling no matter how difficult, opinionated, or picky she is. I miss her more each moment because while I've had so little time with her, in those few, brief moments together, I felt more satisfaction than I deserve."

A long pause followed that before Autumn grumbled low with a bit of reluctance, "You better not hurt her, Tom."

Drake released the breath he held. He smiled in the hope that he got through to Autumn. "Not a goal I have, but I want to be with her. Tell me where she is."

She sighed at length, staring at him with uncertainty. "You better not make me regret this either."

"You won't," he stated with confidence while staring into her blue eyes.

"Then you'll find her in New York City," Autumn revealed with a small smile and related to him where she stayed.

Chapter Twenty

In the ever-popular SoHo neighborhood of New York City, Wyatt, or rather Wyatt's older brother Kurt found a wickedly expensive flat to call home amongst the cast-iron fire escapes and industrial facades before he moved to a house with a small backyard in Long Island with his wife and newborn son. Wyatt was happy to take the place off Kurt's hands and landing the sexy Autumn as a roommate only made the deal that much sweeter. Autumn split her time between DC with Zillah and New York with him. The way he saw it he was a winner.

Not far from Houston Street, Wyatt lived in the nicest zip code with perks that put him in walking distance of some great bars, food, and shopping. Truly, in Zillah's mind, that neighborhood was the best place to visit on a beautiful spring day. Since she had two whole weeks of nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs, Zillah couldn't think of a better way to enjoy some much needed time off away from home than spending it with a good friend she hadn't seen in a hot minute.

"You have such lovely hands," the manicurist Iona complimented as she prepped her hands for pretreatment.

"Thanks."

Zillah had a Brazilian wax done last week at Signature Salon and Spa by the only esthetician, Garnette, in the whole DC area she would allow near such a private area. Her beautician Tamar was there, too, which made it convenient, so she typically did both on the same day. Zillah never compromised on getting her hair, nails, and waxing done every three weeks like clockwork, and so had standing appointments set up. She loved spending half a workday treating herself to something special. She always looked forward to that time. Even better was that sometimes Autumn would go with her for a manicure or pedicure to make it more fun.

A full spa treatment, though? Zillah acknowledged it had been over a year since last she did something like that. Autumn knew this so wanted her to try out a place on Broome Street recommended by some model friends of hers. She gifted her best girl with a full treatment intended for herself deciding her best girl could use it more.

Zillah found the place a little small but was not bothered by this because everything in NYC felt that way to her. It was why she never liked staying there long. All the other parts of being in such a lively place took precedence: clubbing, bars, and restaurants notwithstanding. The way she saw it if she was drunk enough, she didn't think about the tall buildings closing in on her. That was more downtown Manhattan anyway. SoHo was a lot more her speed.

Bella Spa was clean, and most importantly, the staff was friendly, rendering a peaceful atmosphere. Her full body massage had been heaven almost reminiscent of another experience she would rather forget. Christina worked through all the built-up tension Zillah confessed she didn't realize in some places. Once she was done, there was a considerable difference after the deep tissue rubs and hot stones. Zillah could have died right there a very, very happy woman. Now, this was what a real vacation was made of! Pampering! Whoo! Hoo!

"Are you sure you don't want me to paint them? Or maybe a French manicure?" Iona offered with a friendly smile while cleaning her cuticles.

"No. I prefer them natural. Thanks."

Zillah was somewhat stunned but glad that Autumn insisted on making all the arrangements. She found the flight to JFK and talked to Wyatt about Zillah coming to visit. He was cool as always. In fact, he and Zillah spoke for most of the night catching up on the things they didn't talk about by text or Facebook. He seemed to agree with her bestie that Zillah needed to get her head right. Besides, it was beginning to get to Zillah how much in love Autumn was. Her friend was constantly happy while she moped for reasons better left alone.

Zillah walked away from the spa in a much better mood than when she arrived.

_Liar. You can't get him off your mind._ That pesky know-it-all voice surfaced once again to rain on her perfect little parade.

Shut up! No one's talking to you.

_And you know why_ , it said like she made no retort.

_Not listening to you. La-lala-la la._ Zillah sang in her head.

It's because you really were starting to like Mr. Lachlan. For a split second there while swept up in his strong arms and he took care of you, you liked it. You loved the pampering he showed you like he really cared about you.

The smile vanished as she continued her stroll.

But, like I knew...he wasn't serious. Sure sex he was serious enough about—what guy on the face of the earth wasn't really—but beyond that...nope. I can't blame him for that. He's a playboy billionaire. The world's at his feet, women throw themselves at him to get his attention, everyone else sucks up to him and makes his ego bigger than it already is. Has to be irresistible. I'll give him that but doesn't mean I will scrape and bow to him like everyone else.

Yeah, that and his phenomenal bedroom skills.

How could she ever forget about that! What an experience! If only, the other elements of a real relationship had been there. Shoot! Zillah shook her head and didn't even want to go down that road. The best thing she could have done was to walk away. Any other path that led to that man so full of charm and sex appeal would mean heartache.

"Zil?" the tall, average build white man with greenish-blue eyes and dark brown hair standing on his head in wispy devil-may-care motions on top of his head waved a hand in front of her face. She leaped back with a gasp not even realizing she stood at the traffic light not moving with this handsome man in distressed blue jeans and fitted sweater over them with some dark work boots.

"Wyatt," she said as she looked around for a second trying to get her bearings. "Where did you come from?"

"I've just been chasing after you since you left the spa. I told you I'd meet you there when you were done."

"You did? Awww, dang it, I'm just a bubble brain today."

Wyatt laughed and took her arm. "You need lunch, and I happen to know just the place."

When they walked into a cute little bistro, she didn't expect much from it. Shee was pleasantly surprised in the service they received at the counter. It had the feel of a greasy spoon in a compact space. The Black Tap offered plenty of love for Zillah in its selection of craft burgers and the extravagant milkshakes. Wyatt knew what she liked!

"You'll have to have one," Wyatt argued with her for the last couple of minutes as they reviewed the paper menus.

"After I workout maybe." Some of the shakes would just blow her calorie intake for the day for sure.

"What?" he questioned, sitting back a bit like she'd lost her mind. "You'll do no such thing, young lady! You're on vacation, remember? If you must, you can always workout tomorrow."

Zillah stared at him a moment as he grinned. "Then give me the Nutella shake and the Texan burger."

"And I'll have a Tokyo lemonade to go with my wings," he said after setting down his menu with another nod.

Zillah waved her finger at him. "As long as you share."

He lifted his questioning eyebrow at her that was a little higher than the other was. "That goes for your fries then."

They stared each other down before they broke off in new laughter. Back when they were broke students in school, they shared meals just to scrape by living off their paid internships. So when the waiter came and brought the food they wanted promptly with a friendly smile, they continued to laugh and reminisced about how much fun they had being creative in New York with little to no money. The best experience either of them had, and they confessed they missed those days.

The Black Tap filled in quickly as it just opened when they walked in without a line. That was not the case when Wyatt paid for their meal, and they left. Both felt fortunate for their luck. Once again, Wyatt pulled her arm through his. They strolled speaking animatedly of the past, and he encouraged her to do some shopping. Zillah knew this bored him to tears, but he was a good sport about it, carrying the bags she collected from one store to another. By the time they reached his place, the evening was upon them, and they were ready for dinner and a little dancing. Both cleaned up and changed clothes.

They arrived at the cutest establishment in SoHo that Wyatt confessed was like his favorite hidden gem. They could eat some great Mediterranean food, which he had been turned on to by his last girlfriend from Turkey. Many of the dishes that she introduced to him they served there. On top of that, there was live music and this really relaxed ambiance that was kind of romantic but intimate. Unlike some of the other places visited in New York, it had a quaint feel with beautiful décor to go along with the exposed brick. Autumn would call it shabby chic.

"So what happened with Ferah?" Zillah questioned after a sip of her Pomegranate margarita ordered from the bar while they snacked on Hummus. Wyatt spoke briefly about her before in texts and on Facebook, but he never talked about the breakup at all. She was just dying to know because apparently, Autumn couldn't seem to get any information out of him.

Wyatt opted for a Manhattan, which he sipped and sighed. "Have I been talking about her a lot?"

"You guys broke up when? A month and a half ago?"

"Yeah."

"You still seem like you care about her."

He shrugged. "I do, but you know, I can't stop sleeping with Paris."

Zillah grabbed her forehead with a frown. "Oh, no...not that girl again."

He shook his head because he really had no excuse for it. "I've got a serious weakness for her, as you know."

Weakness was an understatement. Zillah remembered well that Paris was the girl who broke his heart three years ago, but for some reason, Wyatt couldn't seem to let go. Paris was a bad, bad girlfriend. Wild, free and crazy as hell, she was also exciting in bed, which made all the other stuff she did bearable. "Why did you even go there with her again?"

"I know better right?" Wyatt smacked his head with the palm of his hand. "I cheated and told Ferah what happened so full of guilt, you know, and bam! Ferah never wants to talk to me again, and Paris flakes out on me and rolls out after getting what she wanted."

"Of course, Paris did," Zillah said with a bitter smile. "Typical. She leaves pain and disaster wherever she's been."

His expression was sheepish as he stared in her pale blue eyes. "I regret it and wish I could get her out of my system. I know all of it, but still, when she comes around, I get lost."

"Because she manipulates you so well. I swear that chic knows all the buttons she can push with you, and the fact that you still love her despite all she's done is unreal."

"Maybe, but I love Ferah, too. Miss her. She's a good woman, Zil, and I let her slip away because of my unresolved feelings for a woman I know is no good for me. How messed up is that?"

Zillah reached a hand to touch his across the table. "Paris will never be the woman you need."

Wyatt took her hand and squeezed it with a nod. "I still want her."

"Toxic," she said with the sad shake of her head.

"I think that she can't stand to know I'm happy without her and seeks to wreck it every time. She's friends with some of mine. I'm sure they were telling her about Ferah."

"She always wanted the relationship with you on her terms."

He chuckled drily. "Yeah, but I can't live my life that way where she comes and goes like the wind."

"And Paris is a lot younger than you."

He rolled his eyes. "Yep, you're right about that. Immature and not interested in real commitment. Too scary."

She sipped more of her drink when a thought came to her. "Maybe she's not over you either but can't get you out of her system, which is the real reason she keeps coming back? She's not ready to settle down like you are?"

"I wish I could figure it out." He shook his head and smiled when he finished his drink.

Zillah wished that she had not asked, but kind of got the reason why Wyatt could not stop thinking about his exes. One was great for him, and the other was totally unhealthy but irresistible. She totally understood the latter. While you knew that person was no good for you, you couldn't stop yourself from going right back to them. Mr. Lachlan had that kind of pull on her, and she refused to fall into that trap no matter how much she thought otherwise. "Okay, this is like a serious downer, and we need a mood lifter."

"Hey, you asked!" Wyatt warned while pointing at her.

She nodded, looking guilty. "I know, and I'm sorry. That's why curiosity killed the cat."

"What?" He blinked at her in confusion, chuckling.

Zillah waved at him and finished her drink. "What do you say to some dancing to go with that drinking we so deserve right now?"

He laughed with a wink to her. "Totally in! I know the place for it too."

They switched the subject to lighter topics after eating some grilled chicken served with rice, tzatziki and French fries which Zillah ordered and grilled hanger steak served on arugula leaves, French fries and tzatziki sauce which Wyatt ordered. They shared their meal and then looked to dance it off at another one of SoHo's hotspots, which looked like it had once been a dive bar turned lounge. Mister H was small, dark but they didn't have to wait long to get in. The DJ was decent, and the drinks were enough to whet the appetite to the music they were familiar with and could jam to. Once Zillah got a couple Tequila shots in her, she didn't care about the cramped space.

At about one in the morning, they looked at each other and shook their heads. Laughing they walked out the establishment together. The DJ had changed to techno. Neither of them cared much for that. They liked the retro vibe of the top 40s music they recognized and could really groove to. The techno gave them both a pounding headache and frankly made them feel older.

The night that greeted them was busy but pleasant. They decided to walk back to Wyatt's place, chatting up a storm and enjoying each other's company. Zillah made the comment that she was glad that they neared the apartment because she needed to go to the bathroom. The way the lines looked at the Mister H for the ladies she'd probably still be waiting to go. Wyatt laughed at her as they quickened their step. The last thing he wanted was for her to have an accident in the street.

"Miss Crawford?"

Zillah turned and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a man emerge from the backseat of a black BMW. Her happy smile vanished at the advance of the dark olive-skinned man wearing a charcoal Tattersall suit with a dark grey shirt. The flash of platinum cufflinks caught her eye as he lifted his hand in a wave. His hair appeared trimmed a bit shorter on the sides than she'd ever seen it but still looked a sexy medium length in the side comb-over.

Zillah froze in the spot where she stood even as Wyatt continued to move forward. When she let go of his arm, he glanced back at her to see her staring at the approach of a man in a suit. He only seemed to have eyes for her as he made wide strides toward them. When the strange man met them, Wyatt stood taller by an inch, but it was clear that the stranger was more fit in his classic suit.

Zillah swallowed in a dry throat in her shock at the rapid drop of her stomach. She tried not to think about this man with all her might since arriving in New York City yesterday and managed successfully in the last half of the night. The change of scenery helped. No way that could continue now. Not when the man in the suit looked as good as any fantasy, she could conjure.

Already, she felt herself responding to a need in his dark brown eyes that reviewed her with simmering heat. Zillah shut her eyes, knowing that this was not happening! She was stronger than this and snapped her eyes open, summoning her wits. He was still there, closer than ever. She didn't dream when she could smell the spicy manly scent coming off his dark olive skin.

"Mr. Lachlan...?" she asked in the confusion of him standing before her. The rush of emotions his presence summoned made her want to run. Zillah had not expected the ignition of excitement. Her heartbeat thumped so fast. She realized that if she tried to flee, no matter what he would find her. She needed to stand her ground.

_Don't cave! Don't cave!_ She warned herself. The longer Zillah gazed into his dark brown eyes, she knew that was easier thought than done.

Chapter Twenty-one

It stunned Drake that in the short period apart Miss Crawford found another to occupy her time. He never factored into his plan the possibility that he might have competition. Was this tall man she leaned into while looping her arm through his and laughed with "serious" about her? The man was handsome enough in a carefree manner. Before Drake confronted them, they seemed comfortable around each other...familiar. That was unquestionably clear.

Who was this man that dared step between Miss Crawford and him? A lover? With the clench of his jaw, Drake tried to relax his hands that balled into fists at the side. He didn't care who the man was. No one would deter him from what he wanted.

Miss Crawford looked damn good! Her hair was still that warm brown with golden highlights that made her latte skin glow. The tussled curls barely reached her shoulders but did cover one pale eye. She wore more make-up, too. Very sexy eyeshadow that made her eyes the feature attraction. The dress she wore fit over her curves in a peachy dream that looked overlaid in lace several inches above her knees with long sleeves and boat neck.

As expected, she appeared surprised while blinking up at him. Not until that moment he realized he held out the hope that Miss Crawford would be pleased to see him. Drake felt that way about her even though she was in the presence of another man so early in the morning.

"You know this guy?" the taller man asked her out of the side of his mouth.

She never looked to her date but kept her eye on Drake after shutting them briefly. Miss Crawford nodded slowly. "I do," she whispered after clearing her throat. "He's my client."

"I need to speak to you," Drake said with the clench of his jaw.

"It's late," the tall man stated with a frown at his watch. "You really should come back later if you must."

Drake held out his hand to her ignoring the tall man. "Take a ride with me? It won't take long."

The tall man looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. "What do you want to do? You know I'll back whatever you decide."

Her eyebrows met with alarm. "Mr. Lachlan, can't this wait until I return to DC in two weeks?"

His gaze was steady on her when the muscle in his jaw flashed. "No."

The tall man turned to her and grabbed her shoulder, which seemed to gather her attention away from Drake. "You don't have to do this."

"I need to see what this is about. It could be important," she told him.

"You said you needed to pee?" he questioned in a hushed tone.

She whispered with a nod, "I do, but—"

He turned from her and toward Drake warily. "You should come up."

Drake scowled, astounded by the invitation but nodded because he refused to leave without Miss Crawford. They entered the red brick building and walked up three flights of stairs with the tall man in the lead, Zillah in the middle and Drake in the rear. The top floor had three units, and they went to the one on the left. Drake entered a pleasant space with hardwood floors and manly accents. His frown grew when he sought to follow Miss Crawford, but the tall man blocked his path. Drake watched her disappear down a corridor instead.

"Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" the tall man questioned with the lift of his eyebrow and gestured to the red couch.

Drake remained standing as he stared down the corridor where Miss Crawford slipped away. "I'm fine thanks."

"So you're Zillah's client, huh?" the tall man asked as he retrieved what looked to be a long neck Rolling Rock from the side-by-side refrigerator.

"I am."

He popped the cap and then took a drink. "My name's Wyatt and yours?"

"Drake Lachlan."

He lifted an eyebrow at Drake as he lowered the bottle from his mouth. "The same Drake Lachlan that introduced himself to my friend Autumn as Tom?"

Drake responded tightly, "My middle name and what I'm called by my friends."

"So, Tom, you mind if I call you that?" Wyatt pointed his bottle at him as he asked, "What are your intentions because at nearly two in the morning, it can't be business-related?"

Drake clenched his jaw at the tall man for the directness of his questions. He had a few of his own. "Are you and Miss Crawford lovers?"

Wyatt stared at him without smiling. "It's a booty call, huh?"

"Wyatt!" Miss Crawford exclaimed as she reemerged from the hallway with a flushed face.

The tall man turned to her raising his arms in a shrug. "Come on. It's a legitimate question, Zil."

She pointed to the hallway she just came from. "Go and let me speak with him."

He sighed with the roll of his eyes. "Fine." He leaned down to give her a peck on the lips, which caused Drake to ball his hands in fists. Threads of possessiveness washed over him as he clenched his jaw and held himself from stepping close and acting on the impulse to rip them apart. Wyatt looked down at her for a moment with softness. "I'll be in the next room. Okay?"

"Okay." She touched his arm and smiled at him with warmth. "Thanks for tonight."

He stroked the hair falling into her pale eye. "It was fun, wasn't it? Forgot how much I've missed you." He pulled away from her grip and walked down the hall with his beer, never looking back.

Miss Crawford looked to Drake warily with her arms crossed in front of her. "What do you need to speak to me about that couldn't wait?"

Drake clenched his jaw at the affection he saw between the two of them and the rise of jealousy unchecked that made him step closer. He forced himself to relax. Alone at last with the one person he wanted regardless of the obstacles in his way, he sighed a bit easier since the other tall man left. "I am not only your client."

"We discussed this. I am not the girl for you, Mr. Lachlan."

Drake shook his head as he corrected, "You discussed it, but nothing was settled."

She rolled her eyes. "I have nothing else to say on this."

Drake stepped even closer, but she did not shy away from him as he thought she might. "Good, because I do, Zillah."

She gasped in the shock of hearing her name spoken in such a low yet serious tone. "No amount—"

He stepped even closer right in front of her now as he stared into her pale eyes that gazed up at him. Miss Crawford swallowed and stopped talking as if she lost her train of thought in mid-sentence. Her lips remained parted to take more air. Drake reached to touch her as he wanted to do for days now. The skin along her jaw was so soft against his knuckles. He watched her draw in a deep breath and hold it.

"You said this was just a fling," Drake stated without breaking eye contact.

She nodded and swallowed again.

He shook his head. "I have had many and this...with you...feels nothing like that."

Miss Crawford swallowed again as she held his gaze, stunned at his words. "It doesn't?"

"No. With my others, I've never found myself so preoccupied with thoughts about them the way I am with you."

"It's because you're not used to hearing no."

"You make a good point. I am not used to being turned down, but I don't chase after women either contrary to what the tabloids say."

She frowned at him and twisted her mouth in disbelief.

"Wait," he said with a halting gesture of his hands. "I heard you out."

"I didn't lie to you either."

"And, I won't lie to you now or ever, Zillah. I don't have time to waste on it and wouldn't waste yours knowing how valuable time is to you."

"Come on, Drake. You expect me to believe you didn't chase women? Really?"

"Women come to me. They seek me out." He touched his chest for emphasis as he shook his head. "I don't have to chase after them."

"Oh...so that's the difference? My bad," she said, dripping with sarcasm. "I had no idea that what you've done to me wasn't planned or contrived to gain an advantage to get what you want from me. Wow...I am such an idiot."

He clenched his jaw. "Are you finished?"

"I told you I was last time, but it seems everything I say to you goes in one of your ears and out the other." She pointed to his head on each side.

"You really _are_ difficult."

She rolled her eyes at him again. "What do you expect? You come here disrupting my vacation for something that was over and done with two weeks ago. You and I both know this. Just accept it and move on. I am."

"With Wyatt?"

Miss Crawford rested her fists on her hips in a challenge. "And if I am?"

Drake shook his head as he glanced at the hallway where the man retreated. "He's not your type."

She shook her finger at him. "No. Let's make this clear. _You_ are not my type."

"I don't believe that and so can't accept it or move on."

"Why not? And the real reason this time."

"You want me, Zillah. I want you, too." Drake caressed her face with both hands. Each pass of his knuckles was light, and with it, her breathing increased through her parted lips.

"So I should give in to you? Is that it? Why not right here? Quick and dirty from the back the way you've been dreaming of right? Is that what you want from me?" she inquired in a whisper as she leaned into him all of a sudden.

"Nothing I want from you will ever be quick, peacock," he replied with the clench of his jaw because he felt this to be a test of wills right now.

She lifted the skirt of her sexy cocktail dress, maybe an inch or two. "Are you sure?"

Drake clenched his jaw at the hint of a garter fastener. Dammit, she was wearing stockings. He touched her hand to halt her as he glared into her pale eyes. "I know what you're trying to prove."

"Isn't this what you want?" she asked silkily.

"Yes, but that's not all."

Miss Crawford raised both eyebrows as she questioned, "What else? From the front, too? On the floor?"

"Stop it."

"Why? That's what you come to expect from your willing women, right? Lusty intercourse?"

"I want what we had on the hill, too."

Zillah frowned at him as she blinked uncomfortably and stepped away from him. "What?"

"Don't you remember? The peace of that moment on my new property when it was you and me. Nothing else as we sat outside, enjoying the scenery, eating sandwiches and drinking champagne?"

"When I refused to sleep with you?"

He nodded with a half-smile and chuckle. "And then I rubbed your shoulders, and you rather demanded I rub your feet, too."

Miss Crawford smiled crookedly. "We fell asleep."

Drake sighed. "I dreamed of you."

She shut her eyes with the pass of his thumb lightly at her cheek before he pulled his hand away. "Yes, I like having sex. The female body is a wonder, and I do admire it."

She snorted while trying to get her bearings. "No joke."

"I'll make no apologies for it. Where the divide comes, is you."

"Me, but how—" She cut herself off to breathe more regularly through her mouth when his thumb pad traced her full lips he ached to kiss when he stepped closer.

"I can't get you out of my mind, Zillah, and I don't want to fight it anymore. I like you. I want to be with you. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"Because it's coming from you, and we barely know each other." She gestured up at him as she backed away a step, but he followed. "And I'm not up for games."

"Don't you think I've figured that out by now?"

She crossed her arms over her chest again. "It doesn't stop you from trying. Even now."

"I'm not playing games."

"You're not?" Miss Crawford inquired the skeptical lift of her eyebrow at him.

Drake sighed while not looking away from her pale eyes so guarded. She tensed when he touched her shoulders, and so he gently rubbed them. "I can imagine the thoughts running through your mind. I'm a playboy. I'm rich. I routinely have flings and not serious relationships. I'm used to getting my way."

Her disturbed frown deepened. "Are you trying to convince me of something? I can tell you right now your tactic isn't working."

Drake tried not to laugh at her sarcasm as he remained unsmiling and continued as if she had not spoken. "How scary it must be when you're as attracted to me as I am to you." His hand returned to caressing her jaw. "You're an intelligent woman. Hooking up with me is not going to end well. So you cut your losses. You walk away."

She nodded, agreeing whole-heartedly. "Because I'm not the woman for you. I'm glad you can see that now." Trying to pull away from him, he hadn't released her shoulder from his other hand.

"You're wrong."

Miss Crawford swallowed and licked her lips before she responded, "I don't think so."

"This isn't a fling," Drake said in an adamant tone. "It's something else."

"What?"

"It's the beginning of something new for both of us. Something beyond the safety of what you've known in your other relationships and the flings I love."

"You seem very sure of yourself. What makes you think I want any of this with you?"

Drake caressed both her cheeks lightly with his thumbs. "The pulse jumping at your throat. The way you lick your lips because of your increased breathing in your excitement." He leaned in like we would kiss her, and Miss Crawford shut her eyes, holding her breath. Drake inhaled her sweetness very near her face as he lowered his head to her lips and nearly brushed them. In a low voice, he said, "You want me, too, no matter how much you fight it, Zillah. Your body tells the truth your mind refuses to face."

She sighed as she bit the middle of her lower lip. At that moment, he found it very hard to concentrate, but he knew that he nearly broke through all her barriers.

Miss Crawford opened her eyes slowly. "I don't want to get burned."

Drake saw the vulnerability that she allowed him to see before she shuttered it away when she turned her back on him. "I would not be where I am without taking risks."

"And your father's money helped," she muttered to herself, but he heard her.

Drake faced her again and lifted her chin to him. "Of course. But my point is, that to grow from my father's standings to what my company is today was not done in a vacuum. The right decisions needed to be made to expand the business in the right areas to monopolize on our standings here in the States and abroad. Risk was always the major factor in this. How much risk was I willing to take to maximize our return and the reward of better profits and growth over the expanse of the company."

Miss Crawford scratched her head. "I know a point was in there somewhere, but I guess I missed it."

"You cannot expect great rewards without taking great risks in life."

"And you're saying exactly what?" she asked, looking perplexed.

"I'm asking...no daring you to take that risk with me since only from taking it can we expect the reward we both seek in each other."

Miss Crawford narrowed her eyes at him. "You're still my client."

"You said yourself that technically I am Community MT Financial's client, _not_ yours. The deal is brokered with Cadda through intermediaries who handle the plans you drafted for us. Where's the problem?"

Miss Crawford shook her head stubbornly. "In my gut, this feels wrong to date you, and I trust that instinct. It's usually right."

He sighed with his impatience. "Then remand me to someone else, or I break the damn contract, Zillah."

"You would do what?!" Her eyes swelled in shock.

Drake stared at her with a resolute expression on his face. "I would do it if it bothered you and your gut so much. That's how serious I am about wanting you."

"You can't do that!" Miss Crawford looked up at him in horror when she touched the side of her head. "Think of all the jobs that would be lost at Community. I'd feel terrible if that happened because of me."

"Then you could find a way to live with dating me under the current state?" Drake asked as he brightened considerably.

Her eyebrows knit in confusion. "What? No!"

His smile grew, too. "You could always come work for me. I would love having you."

Her pale eyes swelled. "Hell no!"

Drake laughed in amusement. "Wow, language, Miss Crawford."

"I will _never_ work for you."

"It wouldn't be so bad. Ask any of my employees. I'm a great boss. I don't ask any more of my people than what I'm willing to do myself."

"None of this is funny, you manipulative, conniving—"

"Ooh, but I love teasing you." He reached to touch her cheek, and she batted his hand away. "I think I love it even more when you're angry, Zillah. You're so adorable when you are."

"Stop it, darn you!" she snapped while he continued to touch her unable to comply.

"I won't apologize for my fingers wanting to touch you," he said as he slid them into her soft hair and tilted her head up to face him. "Or my lips wanting to kiss you," Drake murmured with his head descending to her neck. He heard her suck in a sudden breath and tasted her rapid pulse against his tongue. Her nails found their way into his hair, and he groaned when they scraped his scalp.

It was too much now. His desire split free from where he bound it, and Drake could not contain it again. Freely, it ravaged through him, and he let it, happily caught up. His lingering kiss where he dragged his lips along the curve of her neck sent a shiver through her body, and her breathing became a pant. Slowly, his soft lips trailed up behind her ear where he kissed her tenderly and whispered huskily, "Or my body wanting yours." His hands slipped from her head to wrap around her back and draw her tightly to him.

Either Miss Crawford's gasp was sharp from his sudden action or because she could feel how hard he grew for her. Drake did not care either way because the desired effect was the same. In her eyes, he saw everything he needed to see. The same craving and heat afflicting him ignited within her pale eyes. Further encouragement came in the form of both her hands clutching him near in what he hoped was eagerness. One hand still lingered in his hair. Long, healthy nails stroked his scalp while the other slipped to the back of his neck along his collar.

His mouth claimed hers, unable to wait a moment longer to know her sweet taste. Oh, Miss Crawford was divine heat, soft, and enticing like the first time, and every other time since then. Too long had it been since Drake knew her this way. He felt so thirsty for her. Dipping within and savoring her, his play reached a passionate peak until she responded at last. They sank together into the depths of that explosive heat wholly lost and consumed in the singular need for each other.
Chapter Twenty-two

Zillah sat cross-legged in the leather seat of the limo watching the bright lights of New York streak by in a blur. Mr. Lachlan sat close, not saying a word, but his hand held her own. His thumb ran over her palm and her knuckles perhaps to soothe her. Nothing could, sitting alone with him. What was she doing?

Zillah tried to summon common sense. Somehow, that seemed impossible whenever Mr. Lachlan touched her. That switch went off in her head, and her body was in charge. She detected the warning signs. Mr. Lachlan was terrible for her because anything that felt this hot was bound to burn. Hadn't she been here before and swore she would never do this again?

_Yes! But not just like this. Not with a billionaire, full of charm, and sex appeal that scorched down the walls of her resistance with a kiss?_ She thought with distress.

_Stop it now before it's too late_ , the know-it-all's voice warned.

Zillah shut her eyes. That the point had been surpassed. She wouldn't kid herself into believing otherwise. If she searched herself, she understood that while not comfortable at all to lose control of the situation, she was thrilled to know that Mr. Lachlan was driven to make her see that what they shared was more than physical.

Zillah yanked her head away from him, trying desperately to catch her breath after the steamy kiss he planted on her. She braced her hands at Mr. Lachlan's chest, still trying to pull away, but he would not let her go. The feelings this man could drag from her were scary strong. She needed to get away from him before he hurt her.

"What do you want from me?" she nearly pleaded as they still stood alone in Wyatt's living room.

"More than tonight, Zillah. I want to be with you. Come with me now," he said low.

Her mouth opened, astounded at his words, and the hot look in his eyes. "What?"

"You're on vacation, right?"

"Yes," she nodded slowly.

"Spend it with me."

Zillah blinked at him not sure she heard that right. "All two weeks of it?"

"Yes."

"You'd drop everything ... even work to be with me?"

"I'm the boss and so have capable people who better take care of matters until I return or else they're out of a job. It's what I pay them for."

"You're serious, aren't you?" she inquired while studying his mysterious dark brown eyes and the furrow between his dark eyebrows.

"You should be scared because I am. Despite it, I'm here, Zillah, to convince you to give this...us... a chance because I can't let you go. I don't want to."

Zillah swallowed as she stared into his earnest eyes. They held that same determination that told her he would not accept being denied. His jaw flashed at her more than once while he searched her eyes. She could not deny that she was moved by his argument. While she still was not so comfortable with the idea of him being her client, Zillah definitely didn't like the alternative. She guessed that she would have to live with it as he suggested.

Maybe... Zillah should give it a try? Could she say in all truth that she had gotten the man off her own mind? For weeks, she wondered if things were different if it weren't a fling what could have been? Or what if Tom wasn't Mr. Lachlan but some other man? Did it matter when she felt the same spark of attraction? Sure, Zillah and he working together complicated matters but people dated from work all the time. Some marriages were made by meeting people at work. Not to say that she wanted to marry Mr. Lachlan! No, but she couldn't deny that each time they were together that she wished their hot attraction could blossom into something more.

"You did dare me, didn't you?" she questioned with a crooked smile since she had an awful weakness for those.

Releasing the breath he held, he smiled sexily with the press of dimples in his cheeks. "I did. Do you accept the new adventure we're bound for?"

"Let's put it this way, I'm a risk taker, too. I look forward to a huge reward."

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Oh, peacock, if you come with me now, there will be."

She stroked his smooth cheek and frowned with her own sigh.

"What is it?" he asked with worry stealing his smile.

"I'd feel bad because Autumn and Wyatt planned my whole vacation out for me. Bless his heart, Wyatt even took off work to spend time with me. I'd feel like such a flake if I just took off and—"

"Dammit, girl, go be with him already!" Wyatt's muffled voice called out, but neither Drake nor Zillah could see him. "I'll live. Besides, you'll owe me."

"You sure?" Zillah yelled back in question.

"Go with my blessing."

She looked back at Mr. Lachlan, who smiled with dimples pressed in his cheeks as his eyes glittered at her hotly. She bit the middle of her lower lip and lowered her forehead to his shoulder. "Are you feeling guilty still?" he whispered at her head, which he kissed very softly.

Zillah nodded astonished that he read her so well. She sighed, feeling torn with the slump of her shoulders, and he rubbed them to soothe her. Her hands still touched his firm chest, and she began to massage him up and down.

"That gut thing again, huh?" he inquired, still looking down at her head leaned against him.

"Yeah."

He took in a deep breath and then suggested, "Then you should stay."

Zillah rose her head. Blinking up at him in surprise, gratefulness also spread across her heart. "Do you mean it?"

Drake clenched his jaw and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I mean it. You should stay because afterward, you'll be mine alone. I feel rather selfish right now and don't want to share you with anyone."

Wyatt emerged from the back room with a frown and cleared his throat at his approach before he stopped near the kitchen counter where he deposited his beer bottle. He used the same hand to beckon her. "Zil, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Drake released her so that she could go to him. Zillah walked to her friend and smiled. "It's settled. We can—"

"If you don't go, you know you'll regret it," he said, cutting her off.

She blinked up at him. "You could hear us?"

He nodded with a small smile. "Yeah, and clearly, Tom has it bad for you just like Autumn said."

"Wait ... she said that? When?"

"A minute ago." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "You've got it just as bad though. You'll be itching to spend time with him the whole time with me, and you know it."

She looked down stubbornly. "No, I wouldn't."

Wyatt chuckled with the shake of his head. "We can plan for you to come up another time, okay? Autumn is thrilled and can't wait to hear all the juicy details. You know her."

"But you took off work, and you planned—"

"I can go back to work or stay off. My plans included keeping you busy in not thinking about this guy." He pointed back to Drake. "Totally bombed that, but it's no biggie," Wyatt said with a smile and shrug. "You know you really want to go, so do it. You take your happiness and don't worry about anything else. Take the risk."

"I feel like I'm ditching you, though."

He smiled, shaking his head again. "You're not. I want you to go."

She sighed and hugged him. "Thanks for always being so understanding. Love you so much."

"Dido. Now get going already!" He pushed her toward the hall.

"Okay! Quit shoving!" She giggled, swatting at his hand.

Zillah opened her eyes suddenly, not realizing she shut them when she felt Mr. Lachlan tug on her hand between them in the back seat of the BMW. She turned to him, seated sexily beside her. He, of course, looked as hot as ever, his dark eyes hungry for her. "Come here."

She swallowed and slid closer at his command. When he wrapped his arms around her, she sighed and closed her eyes again. With her back to his front, she leaned her head back a little taking comfort in being held.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said softly beside her head.

"Lots of things."

"Do you regret coming with me?"

Zillah twisted in his arms to see his face, and he appeared worried in the downturn of his eyebrows. She reached for his face so smooth to the touch. "No," she whispered as she looked into his dark eyes without blinking. "This is just new for me. I feel way out my element right now."

"I feel the same way."

Her pale eyes swelled a little to hear that admission. "You do? You seem so confident and downright pompous most of the time."

"Except with you, I don't need to pretend." He sighed deeply and slipped his hand into her hair. "You unmask me every time when I try."

"I do?"

He nodded with a crooked smile. "Only you."

"I didn't realize that I wasn't the only one who felt exposed here."

"You're not."

Zillah stroked his face and then leaned her head down on his chest. His heartbeat sounded rapid like hers, and she looked up at him, smiling sweetly. Mr. Lachlan didn't lie. He was as afflicted as she was by their attraction. "So what do we do about it?"

The sedan soon came to a halt, and the backseat door opened. Mr. Lachlan released her to step out of the car and then turned to help her out. The stocky Latino fellow who drove them went to get the bags as she stared at the small jet on the airport tarmac. She turned to look at Mr. Lachlan as she thought they would go to a hotel or something.

"Where are we going?" Zillah questioned with curiosity.

"Home."

Still holding her hand, he urged her on the jet ahead of him. He steadied her at the waist, and the dirty blonde air attendant reached a hand to help her onboard.

The cheerful woman whose name tag said "Carrie" smiled at each of them and greeted, "Welcome."

They nodded while entering the cozy cabin. Mr. Lachlan guided Zillah to a tan leather seat where he promptly buckled her in.

She protested with a frown, "I can do it."

He smiled after offering her a peck on the lips and took the tan leather seat across her. He buckled up. They watched as the driver of the limo took care of all Zillah's bags and none for Mr. Lachlan. He must have traveled light.

"So I'm giving up New York to go back home?" she asked with a pout. That was really some vacation.

He looked over at her mysteriously and reached for her hand. She gave it to him without thinking about it. "You gave up New York to be with _me_."

Zillah swallowed as she looked into his heated eyes. She couldn't help but look forward and smile. He was right. She had, but not without feeling like a real flake. Wyatt and Autumn had other ideas. Both texted her saying that Zillah should get out of her own way and stop thinking so much. Follow her heart for once and live outside the lines confining her. Enjoy what the rich man offered because if Tom or Drake or whatever she should call him now, came all the way to New York for the sole purpose of being with her, it had to be driven by the need for something more than a fling, something more than simply the desire to sleep with her again. His sincere display and flooring explanation had been true to that end, hadn't it? Deep down, that's what Zillah wanted all along, right?

Chapter Twenty-three

Zillah meant to close her eyes for a second when the airplane began to taxi off the runway so early in the morning of the third day of her vacation. She guessed that she dozed off at some point because when she woke, she no longer saw the cozy luxury cabin of Mr. Lachlan's private jet. As she yawned and blinked around her, she realized that she reclined first of all instead of being strapped into a leather plane seat. Her eyes swelled as she sat up, realizing that she no longer wore her peach cocktail dress either. Looking down the white covers, she wore her nude underwear and thigh-high nude stockings but not her garter.

Confused, she looked around her, not recognizing anything. The huge bedroom was painted a serene pale blue like her eyes with white trim. The furniture looked distressed against dark wooden floors that had a rustic yet old look to them. When she stepped from bed, her feet met a fluffy white rug. Zillah drifted toward the double window running her hand through her hair.

Shifting the white curtain to the side, she saw a sight that puzzled her further. She stood looking down from the second floor at a beautiful pool of turquoise water. Beyond that crowded tall shrubs and flowering bushes. In the distance, she saw coal-black horses with white faces galloping across an open field of green. No...Zillah hadn't the first clue where she was because what she saw was nothing like anything she had seen before.

The bedroom door opened suddenly, and a man with hair that appeared black in its wetness emerged with a silver tray of goodies by the look and smell. He wore a dark blue t-shirt that fit him close over his lean muscles like the black jeans over the lower half of him did. My God Zillah had never seen Mr. Lachlan this way, but it was a turn-on for sure the fact that he could look so hot even when not in a tailored suit.

When his dark brown eyes caught sight of her at the window, Zillah did not cover herself with the short curtain as she initially thought. She released it. Turning more fully to him, she gave him a better glimpse of her curvy body in her barely-there underwear that matched her nude stockings. He'd already seen her naked so what difference would it make to see her in her underwear, which he also had seen when he undressed her before putting her to bed.

His jaw twitched in the review of her from her head to her feet. Then his eyes met hers, heat for heat. Zillah gasped unwillingly but did not look away from the hunger building in his eyes. She watched Mr. Lachlan break eye contact to shut the bedroom door. He then settled the tray on the bench at the end of the bed before turning back to her. She approached him slowly as he stood straight looking at her.

"Good morning, peacock," he greeted warmly.

"Where am I?"

A slight smirk emerged. "I told you last night we were going home."

She waved a hand around with a slight frown. "I don't recognize any of this."

"Probably because you haven't been here before, but then again, none of my flings have ever taken place here."

Confusion marked her expression at this news. "I thought this wasn't a fling?"

"Exactly, and since you already have been to my other home in McLean, I saw no reason you shouldn't visit this one, too."

Zillah looked around, unsure what to feel in knowing that he brought no other women here. "Where?"

"Chestnut Hill, of course."

She crossed her arms over her chest with the arch of an eyebrow. "You make it sound like I know where that is?"

"Philadelphia."

"We are?" Both her eyebrows rose at that, but she didn't see any buildings that she recognized from that familiar skyline. The last time she had been to Philadelphia had been on a middle school class trip to visit the Liberty Bell, as well as some other museums and historic houses in Center City before driving back to DC in the same day.

It was a memorable trip since Stacey Johnson had a massive crush on her friend Mark and kissed him at the park where they ate box lunches. Zillah didn't see much of Mark after that, but it was okay. She still had a lot of fun seeing the change of scenery. Their class trip began early while all was still dark, and they arrived back well after school ended.

Mr. Lachlan nodded with a smile. "Get back in bed, so I can feed you."

"Don't tell me you're going to be like this really bossy, controlling jerk I know that totally gets on my nerves," she said with the roll of her eyes. Her hands gravitated to her hips.

He leaned down and pulled her body against his roughly. "You're being difficult again and may need a little correction for that smart mouth of yours," he said low with a crooked smile of mischief.

Her eyebrow lifted with challenge as she braced her hands against his firm chest. "And by correction, what exactly do you mean, Mr. Lachlan?"

He slapped her on the bottom. "You're being a bad girl, peacock, and you know what happens to bad girls, don't you?" he questioned seductively low.

She bit the middle of her lower lip in her yelp of being struck or how excited she felt right now. His hand lingered, cupping her rump he smacked. "They get spankings?"

"How do you feel about that form of punishment? Be honest," he queried while searching her eyes.

"I didn't know I could like them so much until you did it to me that one time..." she said truthfully as she looked up into his mysterious eyes, and he smacked her bottom again this time on the other cheek. She gasped still feeling the cheeks on her face burn, and her nipples harden against the fabric of her soft bra.

"Do you like it rough, my sexy peacock?" he inquired after edging his head toward her lips. "I would never have guessed that from the sweet church girl you appear, but then again, I have heard in passing that pastors' daughters are the raunchiest sort."

Zillah's eyes widened, and she swallowed skeptical she knew how to answer that strange question but what she was confident of was that he hardened in his jeans pressed so near her hot flesh. Already she began to seep in wetness that she could hardly believe. He'd done no more than spank her playfully and press her close to his aroused body.

Zillah asked a little breathless, "Is that what you want to do to me?"

"I want you in every way, and right now, I want you in that bed. Defy me, and I'll punish you. Do as I say, and I'll reward you."

"Reward me? Reward me with what?"

"I'll pleasure you in whatever way you like for as long as you like."

"And if I defy you?" she asked as she licked her lips and stared deep into his brown eyes.

He leaned his head down to kiss her, but stopped short of her lips and whispered, "I punish you."

Zillah drew her head away from him with a slight frown and probed, "Spank me, you mean?"

"And fuck you how ever _I_ want ... as long as _I_ want."

Her eyes swelled as she gasped, and her mouth stayed open in her shock at his words. Mr. Lachlan swept his mouth against that sweet opening and dipped his tongue inside her. The moment he did that everything in her mind muddled to nothing, but the sensation of heat building inside her stretched along her latte skin and everywhere he touched. Zillah's body ached for him, yearning for a release she understood Mr. Lachlan could well satisfy. He spanked her again, and she groaned as her hands shot to his hair that was wet from a shower maybe.

He smelled wonderful, though. Fresh linen, spice, and man. His skin glowed, and he stood hard and firm as she rubbed herself against that hardness restrained by his jeans.

Mr. Lachlan lifted her from her feet and held her tighter to him when she responded to him in hunger that had nothing at all to do with food. He broke from her mouth with the sweep of her legs up in his arms and lowered her to the bed where he covered her back up with the sheet and comforter. Zillah looked up at him flushed and panting wondering why he stopped his seduction of her and pulled away. He settled the silver tray on her lap and then sat beside her.

"Let me guess... you have some fantasy with feeding me like an infant?" she asked with her arms crossed in front of her again.

"You deserve to be pampered. You're on vacation after all, and I intend to show you a good time should you behave." He lifted the fork full of fluffy scrambled eggs to her mouth. "Every day should begin with a good breakfast so open wide."

Zillah frowned with insult grinding her teeth. "I can feed myself. It's not like I'm an invalid."

He looked to her with a measured sigh. "This is for my pleasure as well as your own. Don't you want to please me? It is such a simple thing."

She sighed with the clench of her jaw because she didn't understand why he wanted this or why she wanted to argue over it. "You mean for the pleasure I get after you feed me?"

"Yes. That's the deal should you accept."

Zillah stared at him, wondering what kind of game he was playing at now. He had her where he wanted her, which was his home so far removed from hers. He said that he wanted to be with her, but beyond that, she had no idea what that meant for the next two weeks. Some of which she guessed involved her pleasure or his. Either way, she had to wonder if there really was a downside based on what he said so far.

Whenever they came together, and he touched her, Zillah felt her inhibitions flee as they did the moment she saw him again. She fought herself from wanting him, but the feelings he stirred were alive. Zillah hungered for the man now because like every other moment since meeting him she felt the most desirable in his eyes. She could see how addictive that could be at the private club, the charity fundraiser, her apartment and at Wyatt's place. Zillah would run no more though. She knew how it could burn her asunder but decided if she burned, so be it.

Staring into his eyes, she saw Mr. Lachlan waiting for her to make up her mind. Zillah conceded her will and opened her mouth with a sigh. She couldn't see how this act of feeding her could please anyone, but when she saw his brilliant smile and how that happiness seemed to fill his eyes she began to wonder why she defied him in the first place. He was right. Letting him feed her was such a small thing. At the back of her mind though, she gathered with him, it could never be so simple as all that.

When Zillah ate every bite of the full breakfast of farm fresh sausage, eggs, home fries and toast including the strong coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice, he praised looking content, "Good girl."

Sitting back against the wood headboard, Zillah sighed with the touch of her packed stomach. She rubbed it in satisfaction and could not imagine what came next as Mr. Lachlan settled the silver tray away from her to the bench at the foot of the bed. Him scooping her out of bed, and heading to an adjacent room though was not it. After using his elbow to flip on the lights, he lowered her to her feet of the gorgeous bathroom of white marble equipped with the most beautiful old claw-foot tub and nickel fixtures. Mr. Lachlan began running the bath when he turned to her with his glittering eyes.

Zillah sought to remove her bra, but he beat her to it with the shake of his head. "No. This pleasure is all mine."

She closed her eyes as his hands glided over the skin of her shoulders and arms to lower the straps one at a time. He allowed the material to fall out of his hands in favor of cupping her breasts from behind. He squeezed them, making the nipples harder in the process. Zillah sucked in a breath with a tremble of pleasure. His fingertips lightly swirled the areolas. Like her nipples, the flesh around them reacted to his touch, making her shiver with delight against him. He kissed her shoulder, and she arched her back into his hands with a moan.

"My peacock..." he whispered seductively taking his kiss up the curve of her neck, "how good you feel in my hands."

Zillah reached her hand to shift her hair away from the work of his lips while her other caressed his face. His hands never stopped alternating from squeezing her firm breasts and rubbing the skin around her nipples. Her moans were soft with each new tremble that coursed through her.

"Do you like me touching you?" Mr. Lachlan squeezed each of her sensitive nipples.

"Yesssss," she hissed with the breath lost, and her body seemed not to be her own as she erupted.

His hands released her and ventured lower as he kissed the length of her neck. "They like touching you, too. So soft you are, and moist," he whispered with a rub outside her panties.

Back and forth, Mr. Lachlan rubbed her crouch that she rocked against his hands. When his hands drew against the sides of her panties and began running his fingertips along the edges, her, pant was at its wildest. He kissed the back of her neck, each shoulder blade, down her spine until he squatted behind her. Slowly at his new vantage point, Mr. Lachlan leaned forward, and she felt his teeth at her buttocks. Zillah gasped in surprise and felt his hands at last lower her panties over her curvy bottom so slowly. He stopped once she was exposed.

"You are so beautiful," he admired with the suck of his breath and then did something she had not been expecting. His face wedged between her bottom.

She clenched in surprise with a new gasp. How irregular! Zillah could never remember a man doing that before not that it displeased her. She just felt caught off guard by it.

"Relax. I'd never hurt you," Mr. Lachlan urged and massaged her bottom with both hands.

Slowly she relaxed yet panted anew trying her best to control her breathing. Zillah shut her eyes, wondering what had come over her. What was it about this man that made her feel like this?

"I only want to touch every inch of you and make you feel good." He kissed each nether cheek softly. "Reward you for pleasing me so well."

"But I haven't told you what I want."

Mr. Lachlan chuckled lightly, and Zillah knew of no sound that she found sexier than that. "You're wrong. Your body has been broadcasting it quite clearly, and I am tuned in to all it tells me now."

His hands resumed the removal of her panties over her thigh highs. They caressed her as she smiled at the feel of his hands, branding her. Zillah stepped out of her panties once they were at her ankles. Mr. Lachlan turned her to face him, and he looked up at her.

"Turn off the water for me please."

She reached to do what he requested and then looked down at him expectantly. Her lips were parted, and her face flushed like her neck and chest.

"How could any man let you slip away once he's tasted you?" Mr. Lachlan asked with awe while still kneeling before her like a swooning suitor out of some period romance novel.

"Perhaps no one has ever made me feel the way you do every time we touch," she whispered with a vulnerability she shut away from him because he seemed able to make her show more than she ever wanted to be seen.

He rolled down her stockings one at a time. She braced her hands against his shoulders to steady herself until she was completely undressed and he had touched her every place. Or so she thought.

"Widen your stance for me, peacock."

Her eyes swelled, but she did as he wished. Mr. Lachlan leaned forward, positioning his head just so at the base of her heat and kissed her there. Her eyes swelled so big in surprise as she tried to step away.

"No," he ordered, and she froze.

"But..." her face was so red with embarrassment. She didn't feel exactly the cleanest she could be for that. She tried to pull away again when he resumed his kiss. He held her in place with a hold on her thighs. "Let me wash first."

"No," he said with the shake of his head and smiled sexily. "I want you like this."

His head returned to her smooth crotch and kissed her with a suckle to the place that made her shudder. His mouth was hotter than his hands that massaged her thighs. His skilled wet tongue trumped even them. Mr. Lachlan groaned deep in his throat as she moaned softly in answer. Her hands found his head and raked her long nails over his scalp.

"Oh, you taste so good," he declared with new kisses. Returning to his licking for she grew wetter by the moment, his tongue dove deep for it from end to end, leaving no part of her untouched or without knowing him.

"Your nectar is the sweetest bliss," he groaned, looking up to her and smiled with the press of dimples in his cheeks.

Mr. Lachlan returned to his play, relishing her with his tongue, making love to her with it until she responded in the only way she could. Zillah ground on it, and his thumb found her special place to rocket her to heaven. Her legs shook, and her cry was a liberating, "Drake!"

He groaned with her, tasting her coming. Miss Crawford shuddered around him, and he licked her still just as greedily. Shocks of pleasure shot through her, so he needed to steady her with his hands at her hips. Drake soothed her with slow kisses until the tremors passed. When he looked up to her again, her face blushed from her spent desire. She gazed down at him with a heat that fogged her pale eyes. He stood slowly and wasted no time to share her sweetness with her. Her mouth devoured his hungrier than before, and he groaned again at how responsive she was.

Drake broke the kiss and swept her up in his arms again. He lowered her gently into the tub. He pulled away from her eager hands with a wicked smile. At the shelf, he found shower gel and loofa.

"Lean back, peacock."

She did as he desired for she understood better the reward of pleasing him. In wonder, Zillah stared at him while her heart tried to beat normally back in her chest. She didn't know what to make out of him. Was this kind of pleasure something she could look forward to on a regular basis?

Mr. Lachlan knew precisely what to do to usher an orgasm every time, and it was amazing. No one had ever made her come so often but then again, no man before thought of her pleasure above his own. None of her previous lovers had been so generous. They pleased her, some better than others, but Mr. Lachlan took her to levels above anything she experienced.

Shutting her eyes, Zillah drifted as he washed her body with care. She was very relaxed with him, not knowing why. His touch was ... sensual. Soothing. The water grew cold, and he roused her to stand. Zillah had not realized that she fell asleep. Mr. Lachlan washed between her legs and her bottom gently. Suddenly the awful thought skipped across her mind in how many times he had done this. He was so good at it. She frowned not comprehending why this should bother her.

"What is it?" Drake asked when he looked up into her pale eyes.

"What?" she questioned distracted from her thoughts of his track record with women. Zillah glanced down at him and could see him studying her from his squat.

"Tell me." He stood to get her a towel and rolled it out on the floor. Lending a hand, he assisted her out of the tub. She stepped on the towel that he draped on the hardwood floor and he turned to grab another.

"Nothing."

Mr. Lachlan began drying her slowly. Her body still so stimulated, she panted. She could not help the excitement he brought to it. It was starting to feel sorely unfair how often he seemed to manipulate it to his will.

"It isn't nothing. If this is going to work between us, we must have honesty, Zillah," he said while studying her eyes.

"And trust, right? Like any real relationship?" she inquired and looked away from him.

"Do you doubt what I want with you?" He lifted her chin to face him. "Do you?"

Her frown of doubt surfaced. "I ask myself, what am I doing here? You can't be for real. You can't want me as much as you seem to. I'm nothing special."

He shook his head. "I wish you could see what I see right now." He saw her twist to look at herself in the mirror, and to her, she saw her arousal in her eyes, on her flushed face and every place he touched.

"A horny woman?"

Mr. Lachlan smiled with the adorable press of dimples when he shook his head. "A woman who holds no equal in beauty or intellect, and I find you irresistible."

She shook her head, too. "I don't know, Mr. Lachlan, but that redhead supermodel from your charity fundraiser was very hot."

"You forget that I chose you over her, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, that's true. Point taken."

"As for nothing special...I beg to differ. You are most special to me for reasons I could not explain right now. What I feel is real for you," he said with sudden heat as he let the towel drop out of his hands so he could caress her back and lower to that firm round bottom of hers. "And what I want...well, words could not do it justice in how I want to reward you." He swept her legs up into his arms again and headed for the bed. "I think it's time my body does all the talking for the next few hours."
Chapter Twenty-four

Hours turned into a whole day and night in bed. It blurred reason. The more Drake touched her, the more profoundly he felt himself slipping into something immersive, obsessive. While control of his peacock as in all things around him had been the goal, in the end, he felt enslaved.

Miss Crawford exhibited a strong will that challenged him when he least expected it, but when she surrendered all to the passion he could summon in her eyes, in her body, it was thoroughly intoxicating in the honesty of it, so engulfing in its totality. Irresistible in how it engrossed him to feed it, to reward and focus on her needs fulfilled repeatedly before he took his own pleasure at last.

Exhausting one another, they lapsed in and out of consciousness to make love without hurry and until they trembled with the passion that captured them and failed to let go. Sweat lined their heated bodies consumed in the fire of their making, and they needed to stop before they combusted. Besides that, Drake ran out of condoms. He cleared out the entire house. It was unheard of. They laughed about it in bed, holding one another tiredly. Just as well, what followed was a more restful drunk-like sleep needed by both of them.

The next morning Drake awoke contented. Holding his peacock near gave him much pleasure as he watched her sleep with her head resting on his arm. Both laid on their sides facing one another. Her hair covered her face and some of his chest. The tangled strands fanned with her regular breath. Stroking it out of the way, he smiled at the bit of drool that escaped the corner of her full mouth. Her sleep remained sound even with his shift into a more comfortable position by propping himself up on pillows at his back.

After a time watching her this way, she moaned softly, "Drake..."

"Zillah," he whispered back, kissing her head but realized soon enough that she still slept. She smiled in her sleep, draped her arm across his chest, and cuddled closer to him.

Shaking his head, he stroked her face lightly in study. Drake loved the feel of her warm latte skin against his hand and her soft hair he gently cupped behind her ear. His heart tightened mysteriously in his chest with his deep breath taken, knowing that Miss Crawford dreamed of him. Warmth flooded his belly, and he had no words for how great his happiness. The loneliness that plagued him amongst friends and crowds over the last six months seemed distant like the emptiness. Wonder surrounded that feat, as did the cause of it.

Drake was uncertain how long he laid there in silence, watching her sleep on him. When she awoke with a sweet smile up at him wiping the corner of her mouth of drool, he felt his heart swell with a joy that was so new. He ran his hands through her hair, and she came at the beckoning look in his dark eyes. The same heat he felt again for her filled her own. Her lips on his were heaven on Earth.

"Good morning, Mr. Lachlan," she murmured in greeting with a small smile.

"Good morning, Miss Crawford. Sleep well?"

She nodded slowly. "Like a baby. I take it you slept well, too?"

"Hmmm." He kissed her again. "Shower with me?"

Her eyebrow lifted as she looked from his lips to his eyes. "Only shower?"

"I'm all out of condoms so only showering would be best."

Miss Crawford giggled, along with her adorable blush. She bit the middle of her lower lip. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'll make sure to stock up appropriately with such an amorous woman in my life."

She tilted her head at him while pulling away from his touch of her face. "Hey, you make it sound like it's all my fault. You're the one starting it."

"And I certainly finish it."

She giggled again. "That you do."

Drake rolled suddenly on top of her. "How can I keep my hands off you when your body fits mine so perfectly? It's like you were made for me." He caressed her breasts and then sucked one of her hard nipples in his mouth. His tongue soon wrapped around the hard pebble of her.

Zillah sucked in a sharp gasp with the run of her hands through his silky hair. "Oh, you don't play fair at all."

"I never have," he murmured around a wicked smile up at her. He nibbled her same breast before giving it a gentle squeeze. "No reason to start now."

She sucked in another breath. "Drake..."

"Zillah..." he breathed her name and kissed her chest.

Drake suckled her until she trembled with need. Then he promptly got up and scooped her up in his arms. He headed for the bathroom and shower. Lowering her to the stone floor, he turned on the showerhead. It gave her all the opportunity she needed when he didn't touch her, and she jumped on him. He caught her taking a wider stance and chuckled in amusement.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her head aimed for his mouth silencing him before he could say a word. Her hungry kiss seemed to devour him. Drake dared open all of his mouth for her, and she came fully inside to seduce and enthrall his tongue. He groaned with need hardening for her.

"Zillah..." he whispered with the last thread of reason until he stared into the heat of her eyes.

"Can't you pull out?" she whispered as she stared into his eyes burning with a flame so hot she felt consumed. "Please tell me you don't have anything."

Drake shook his head. "I don't, but I always use a condom."

"I want you now..." she panted with demand.

Drake sighed with the clench of his jaw in the flame engulfing her eyes. "I would never be so reckless. I will protect you, Zillah."

"What happened to taking risks?" she asked, gripping his head in her beautiful, feminine hands.

Mr. Lachlan clenched his jaw at her again, but his eyes took that adamant look and Zillah began to understand what that meant. "Not that kind. I'll make arrangements for you to get on the pill or injections today. There will be no deviation from either of these options."

"Must you control _everything_?" She pouted with the clench of her own jaw.

"I want you, too, yet I will take care of you always first and foremost," he stated with the lowering of her feet, but no sooner than her feet touched the stone of the shower, she felt his fingers invade her without warning. "Is this what you want?" he questioned heatedly.

Repeatedly his fingers dove into her moist hot center, slow and deep. Her sweet whimpers were soft as she gave herself to the motion of her hips against his pumping hand.

"Is it?" he whispered at her ear he kissed while clutching her by the waist.

"Yes!" she cried while clinging to his shoulders, tipping her head back.

His mouth dove for her hardened pebble. Her hands curled around him with her nails digging into him with another of his fingers added to increase her pleasure. The water of their shower still steamed over them like the saturating heat that already spread within. Drake groaned as he stroked himself, feeling her coming fast, but then he thought better of that. He pulled one of her hands down to his length and urged her soft hand along his stiffness. It rubbed him in an instant as fast as he drove his fingers inside her. Their eyes met seeing in each other how the heat of desire ran deep. His mouth made its way to hers, and when it did, both of them seemed to explode in a fever of their yearning.

Chapter Twenty-five

Did he know it from the beginning? Maybe. From the moment Drake saw his peacock in the Underground so fresh and out of place, he detected how different she was from everyone else. That difference attracted him at first to take a closer look. The second Drake gazed into her pale eyes what he saw mirrored there was a loneliness that echoed his own. Miss Crawford sought something that night. Someone who flowed in the same atmosphere she did. His peacock wanted to find someone who understood her on that basic level. Didn't everyone want that? More importantly, didn't Drake?

"What?" Miss Crawford questioned with her crooked smile regarding him through her eyelashes from across the table of his favorite restaurant, CinCin.

So many looks she had, yet this one was the embarrassed expression Drake noted whenever she caught him staring at her for too long and saying nothing. Locked away in his own thoughts, he couldn't help but stare at Miss Crawford. Frustrating, stubborn, sexy, and adorable; all traits wrapped up in that devastating curvy body of hers.

Miss Crawford looked down at herself before draping the salmon pink napkin in her lap. She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I admit this tunic is really cute."

In his experience with women in the past, whenever Drake bought things for them, there was no argument. These _normal_ women were flattered that he had the forethought to think of them in such a way, that he knew their sizes, and actually purchased something that they would like to wear. In this, Drake judged wrong as he gazed at his peacock and shook his head.

Miss Crawford immediately questioned once slipping on her white satin underwear she found put away in a distressed white painted dresser, "What's the matter with my clothes?"

"Nothing," he said with his smile fading quickly because he could see the offense in her pale eyes.

She stared down at what he chose for her to wear with her hands on her hips, looking sour. "Then what's the problem with me choosing what I wish to wear?"

Drake sighed as he shut his eyes for a moment and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Like feeding her, he could not understand what the big deal was. Clearly, it was though. "You have no idea what I have planned for today, and so I thought—"

Cutting him off briskly, Miss Crawford said, "Well, if you'd just tell me where we're going then I can choose something appropriate." She turned away from him suddenly and stormed off to the closet where he hung up her things in her luggage.

"You don't have one pair of jeans or sneakers, and that would be appropriate today."

Miss Crawford grimaced with a shiver when she turned back to look at him. "Because I don't _wear_ jeans."

He frowned at her. "Why not?"

"I've found none that fit right for my body, okay?" She turned back to her own clothes. "And sneakers? Except for the gym, I wouldn't be caught dead in them."

"Will you at least try on what I've got here for you?" Drake reasoned gently with a measure of patience that amazed even him at such defiance on her part.

For several minutes, they argued until Drake coaxed her begrudgingly into the jeans. He certainly did not understand this woman. Every shoe she packed for vacation had high heels. No sneakers he found in sight. Nothing he saw was casual at all. Sexy, oh yes, but not comfortable.

So while she slept like the dead upon their arrival to his home, Drake remedied that situation with the purchase of several things including a pair of hiking boots, stretch black jeans that hugged her generous tush to perfection along with the flattering top of a tribal print he believed went outstandingly well with her latte skin. The tunic, in fact, matched the color of his Miami blue Porsche 911 Turbo Cabriolet he drove today, which attracted him to it in the first place.

Miss Crawford liked the top and put it on without complaint as she reviewed herself in the mirror stunned by his taste he imagined. They argued another two minutes over the shoes, and so with firm insistence, she wore her own flats he didn't find hiding in a side zipper section of her luggage, but he carried the hiking shoes and socks in the car as a compromise if once they got underway, she changed her mind.

After being locked down for a day indoors and waking the next day in late morning, Drake was eager to get some fresh air. Miss Crawford felt the same, as she expressed when he ushered her into the Porsche. As they drove through Chestnut Hill, CinCin came to mind for Drake, and she seemed open to Chinese food after the appointment with Dr. Weinstein. He expressed liking the restaurant since it was not like a traditional carryout. The presentation approached more of a fine dining touch with a French flair.

Their first visit in town was to see Drake's private doctor who put Miss Crawford on the injection. It was the fastest acting she decided, and Miss Crawford didn't have to worry about remembering to take her birth control pill. In a few months, she could see her own OB/GYN and either get another injection or return to the pill. The story behind her not being on birth control was not religious in nature as Drake began to believe but a more practical reason. Since having broken up with her last steady boyfriend several months ago, Miss Crawford didn't find the need to continue taking the pill.

The casual sex concept wasn't something she engaged in ever except those two times with Drake apparently. He couldn't understand why that nugget of knowledge pleased him so well, but it did. At least now, they knew that if they wanted to, they could have spontaneous sex without fear of her being unprotected, which was a good thing. Drake made sure that while she was attended to at the doctor's office that he restocked on condoms. He preferred to be safe than sorry when it came to such things.

"What?" his peacock asked again after the server took their orders of spring rolls, shrimp with honey walnuts, and Tarragon chicken with Shiitake mushrooms.

Drake favored not sharing his thoughts in order to avoid another fight, so he simply said, "Just marveling how beautiful you are."

Miss Crawford smiled at him, crookedly and tilted her head at him for a second. "I have the feeling there's more to it than that, especially in light of this morning."

"No doubt I am the luckiest man in here," he said, leaning in close as he smiled wickedly followed by sipping the water with lemon the server just poured. "You are my match in desire and stubbornness to be sure."

Miss Crawford lifted her eyebrow at him with the twist of her mouth. "Defiance is something you're not used to I see."

"It isn't... no." Wishing for another topic of discussion and quickly, he shook his head. Much later, Drake decided he would deal with that matter. For now, he queried, "How is it that you have not seen more of Philadelphia than Center City?"

She shrugged. "As I explained during our ride here, I've been busy working."

"Too busy, obviously. You need to enjoy more of life before you let your best years slip you by."

She frowned a little. "You seem to think I've not lived? What gives you that idea?"

"The way it sounds to me; all you do is work."

"Sure, I work hard. I've had to. Nothing in my life have I gained without it, but just because of that doesn't mean I haven't lived."

Drake lifted both his dark eyebrow at her with skepticism. "Really?"

"I haven't taken time to travel like some people at this table with an unlimited supply of money or a private jet, but I did when I was younger." She rolled her eyes at him. "My dad would travel a lot for his work and sometimes I would get lucky enough to travel with him and see the cities he visited."

"Like?"

"Chicago during winter so windy and cold I thought my face would freeze off. Seattle that rained every day until the day we left, San Diego with it blustering sunny blue days I swore I would move there, Dallas with its dry white heat that gave me my first sinus infection, and Miami in summer at the height of its humidity to name a few." She scratched her head thoughtfully before she looked at him. "On my own, I visited other places during college with friends for spring break, but my focus has never been so much on where I've been."

"So you don't like to travel?"

"I do, but what I like more is spending time with the people I love. Hanging out with friends and family means more than anything to me. With the exception of Wyatt, all those people live in the DC area." She shrugged. "I've never had a need to leave it. It's the city of my birth, the best one in the world, plenty to do and see and it has everyone I love within it."

"And where does your boyfriend find time?" Drake asked before he sipped water and watched her.

Her look grew disturbed when her eyebrows met briefly. She shook her head and sipped her tea afterward. "Are you concerned that I'll neglect you?"

"I wouldn't allow it."

Miss Crawford balked at that. "You wouldn't allow it, huh? Wow, how very pretentious."

"Only truth, remember?" he reminded with a smug smile.

Her pale eyes narrowed at him with her hands clasped under her chin and elbows braced on the table. "And how would you manage that? I just must take the bait and hear this answer."

"By making you remember what it is to be with me and make you miss me, of course."

She sat up straight and laughed at him. "You are too narcissistic for your own good, Mr. Lachlan, and someone needs to knock you down a peg or two off the pedestal you've situated yourself on."

Drake chuckled in amusement because here it was again that he never had a woman dare insult him in such a manner. Too often, people found him intimidating, but not his peacock. It seemed she saw right through him. Not even Sabrina dared to insult him like that. He found the fact refreshing and amusing. "Am I? I thought that's what you find most attractive about me?"

"You would think so, but no. Humility is a trait to be admired. I suppose your fancy schooling never touched on that quality in such snobbish human-beings as yourself."

His dark eyes took on a mysterious glint. "Would you like to make a bet on that, Miss Crawford?"

"Oh, on taking you down a peg?" She giggled in amusement before taking more tea. "That's a tall order."

"No, on making you remember what it is to be with me and make you miss me when I'm not near," Drake clarified because an idea occurred to him on how best to handle two things at once concerning her.

She sighed regarding him a moment in deliberation. "You're on." Miss Crawford lifted her tea at him and nodded.

Drake smiled at her fully while lifting his water and nodded. It seemed he would be enjoying himself quite a bit after all in the taming of his willful but beautiful peacock.

Chapter Twenty-six

Zillah stood at the top of the vista with a whole new appreciation for nature. The sun appeared low in its approach to the horizon, casting shades of crimson and deep fiery orange across the sky. From the spot reached in Fairmount Park—Mr. Lachlan considered peaceful—it offered a spectacular view of the skyscrapers in downtown Philly at a distance.

What would have made the moment perfect would have been if Zillah's feet didn't scream murderous things at her. Her flats, though cute with her casual outfit, were not made for hiking across the more than 9,200 acres in the park. The shaded woodlands and rolling hills traversing along the Schuylkill River were quite tranquil. She would not have missed seeing it for the world with such handsome company chatting with her about the beauty of his historic birthplace.

To complain about her feet hurting through the taxing pace, Mr. Lachlan kept would mean accepting defeat. Zillah determined that she could handle whatever he had in mind on her own terms. Hence, admitting he was right to buy the hiking boots he anticipated she needed for this outing, could not be allowed. After several hours in the park prior to its close and making it back to his sports car, she wished that she had the ugly boots on her feet. Carefully, she eased into the Porsche while her feet throbbed with burning on top from the constant shifting of her naked toes against the cloth on the inside of her shoes.

Mr. Lachlan said not a word about her limping the last half mile. Most of the hike, he focused on telling her about how the city acquired the lands for the park. It was not just for the pleasure of its citizens but more for the sake of infrastructure. During the industrial age, Philadelphia boomed with its factory work and pollution of the waterways was a major side effect. By designating the area around that part of the river as parkland, it quashed any threat of river contamination downstream.

"That was fun," Zillah confessed with a small smile feeling more than relieved to be off her aching feet. "We should really do that again sometime."

Mr. Lachlan smiled with the show of dimples. "I'm glad to hear you enjoyed that so much."

"Where to now?" she asked, strapping on her seat belt.

"Dinner and maybe a stroll through Center City?" He also clicked his seatbelt into place and started the Porsche smoothly.

Zillah swallowed hard and tried not to grimace. She hoped that she pulled off a real smile. "More walking, huh?"

He nodded with what she knew was a coy smile. "Great exercise and the best way to explore my city."

Tightening her jaw a moment, Zillah gathered that he knew her condition, but instead of being the gentleman she knew very well he could be, Mr. Lachlan chose instead to make her suffer unnecessarily. Fine ... he wanted to play this game, so be it. "Absolutely. Let's do it."

Both his eyebrows lifted in surprise before his smile grew enthused. "Outstanding!"

Mr. Lachlan drove them east of Center City near Chinatown and looked for parking along 6th Street. Finding a space on the second floor of a parking garage, he parked and then opened the door for her. Zillah sighed at the thought of her throbbing feet, touching pavement for more walking. She pleaded with her toes to cooperate a little longer.

"You okay?" he asked with concern that marked his downturned eyebrows.

Zillah glanced up at him sharply with a smile she pasted on from some unknown place that was too stubborn for her own good. All she had to do was admit that she suffered pain and wanted to sit this one out. Instead, she denied smoothly, "No. What makes you ask?"

Mr. Lachlan tilted his head at her in study for a moment. "It just looked like you were frowning."

"Was I?" she asked with both her eyebrows lifted in mock surprise.

"Yes."

"I'm fine." She reached for his hand, and he gave it to her. "Lead the way?" she asked while looking ahead toward the exit.

Mr. Lachlan nodded, and they began their almost eight-block walk. They slowed down when in the night shined so many lights in a place that held a short decorative black iron gate surrounding a park that carried signage of gold letters that read Franklin Square. In delight, she nearly forgot about her aching feet as she looked up to Mr. Lachlan, who smiled boyishly.

Lights twinkled along the herringbone brick path they strolled at a slower pace as they remarked on the decorative lanterns. Once reaching the end of their route, they came to the center of the park. There rose a charming fountain of marble beauty brightly lighting the night. Newly restored in 2006, its stones dated back to the original construction. Mr. Lachlan also shared the fact that the fountain stood about as long as the park did since around 1838. Like the park, it was named after one of the city's most fabulous residents and contributors to the cause of freedom Benjamin Franklin.

Mr. Lachlan indulged her in her desire for a photo. He snapped it with her phone in front of the illuminated fountain and allowed her to convince him to take a selfie with her in the same spot. Both turned out well. Her smile was contagious. Mr. Lachlan made sure to send the same pics to his own phone while programing his mobile number into hers.

"So, before it was a park, what else has it been?" Zillah asked when they sat down in the grass to eat their Square burgers, shared crinkle fries, and something called the Cake Shake made with a Tastykake Butterscotch Krimpet and caramel sauce blended with creamy vanilla ice cream. Talk about deeeee-vine! It alone was worth her feet screaming at her to get there. While tempted to remove her shoes and wiggle her sweaty toes, she worried that she might not be able to put them back on due to the abrasions. She and Mr. Lachlan still needed to hike the eight darn blocks back to his Porsche.

The May night was pleasant, and Zillah was grateful since she brought no jacket. Mr. Lachlan was smart in that he wore a long-sleeved tee over his worn blue jeans that looked a bit faded in the seat and knees. By far though it was the sexiest ensemble, Zillah had seen him wear next to his own dark olive skin. Her hands could almost feel the smoothness of the latter devoid of hair. She wondered if he waxed. He was always so well groomed.

In recent memory though, Zillah could not say that she had ever been attracted to someone so ... vain. She wouldn't put it past him as he seemed very particular about certain things. Oh, scratch that... in _all_ matters within his area of influence was Mr. Lachlan controlling. His grooming habits would undoubtedly fall into that category.

In between bites of his burger, he sat Indian fashion while people watching and stealing glances at Zillah. "Glad you asked. History points to it being a cattle pasture, a cattle market, burial ground, and then what it is today a city park."

Zillah lifted her hands in wonder. "And these lights? They seem to have an Asian theme." They walked past so many LED-light displays she found breathtaking especially the red and gold Chinese dragon with the weird lizard head and long snake-like body made of such brilliant detail. There were other displays too like giant flowers, and a three-story pagoda throughout the park as Mr. Lachlan and she ambled taking in the lovely artistry in lights.

"It's the 10th annual Chinese Lantern Festival that Franklin Square hosts. My understanding is that it's a celebration of light meant to bring good tidings for the new year."

Zillah sipped her bottled water. "Kinda late for that, isn't it? I mean I don't pretend to know much about Chinese culture, but I do like to go to the festivities in my own Chinatown, and I know that the Chinese New Year has already passed."

"I think the city still wanted to participate but because of the winters wanted the people to be able to enjoy it in Franklin Square when it's open starting in April."

"Oh, I see. That's cool."

They finished their dessert together and then took a closer look at the Parx Liberty Carousel at Zillah's insistence. The shining lights of the spinning carousel had her pale eyes lit up like stars. He walked away from her and bought tickets before she could ask. Her girlish grin at him was huge, and when it was their turn to board. She touched a number of the racehorses, a dragon, and an eagle. They stood as the carousel began its spin and held on to poles painted gold. Her laughter of delight escaped her because in that instant, she felt like a kid again.

Their stroll began again, with leisure. They took a different path out of the park. They headed back to the Porsche, and Zillah slowed down even more. Once they left Franklin Square altogether, her limp became more pronounced. She could not hide her wince in pain. Shaking her head, she realized that she had to swallow her pride.

"I can't," Zillah disclosed in defeat and hated every minute of the admission.

"You can't what?" he asked innocently while turning back to her.

She glared at him and saw the great acting Mr. Lachlan put on in pretending he didn't know what she spoke of. "Will you make me say it?"

He stared at her blankly.

"Okay, fine! You win! My feet are killing me," she conceded miserably. "I can't walk back to the car. I'm sure my feet will be bleeding by then if they aren't already."

"Well, we wouldn't want that." Mr. Lachlan smirked at her a little with a sympathetic tone.

"No, we wouldn't," Zillah replied tightly because she didn't believe him as she shook her head.

A black limo stopped in front of them, and he opened the back door for her. "Then it's a good thing I've made other arrangements."

Zillah stared at him, stunned but gladly climbed into the limo so she could get off her aching feet. He followed her and shut the door. They rode for a short period, but the parking garage did not appear to be their destination when the passenger door opened for them by the white limo driver in a black suit. When she looked up, they stood in front of an edifice, which had been engraved the Lafayette Building, yet some signage also said that it was the Hotel Monaco. As she gazed around, she saw that it was directly across the street from old Independence Mall. Zillah looked back at Mr. Lachlan with her mouth dropping open.

"I hope you don't mind if we stay in town?" He gestured toward the front door of the hotel. "You look to be in a great deal of pain. Can you make it the rest of the way?"

She nodded as she closed her mouth. He reached his hand to her, and she took it speechless.

The doorman greeted them with a friendly smile at their approach and opened the door of the entrance for them. "Welcome back, Mr. Lachlan. Good evening, ma'am."

Zillah nodded back to him and then thought her jaw might drop again at the opulence surrounding her. The warm ambiance of the lobby as they reached the front desk was different and not expected. She knew Autumn would totally love the quirkiness of the furnishings that were atypical.

The handsome young clerk smiled in greeting. "Welcome back, Mr. Lachlan. We have the Majestic Suite and Parlor available as you requested."

"Excellent, Mitch. It's much appreciated on such short notice." He handed over his American Express card, which Mitch swiped, and promptly returned. The key to the suite he offered next.

"Always a pleasure, sir. Please enjoy your stay with us, and if there is anything else I can do to make it more memorable, please do not hesitate to let me know."

Mr. Lachlan nodded with his own smile down at Zillah before looking back to the clerk. "I think I have that covered, but thanks for the offer." Taking Zillah's hand, he walked away from the front desk at a smooth gait and headed for the elevator. It gave Zillah time to examine more of the modern glamour of what appeared to be a historic hotel. Mr. Lachlan seemed to have an inkling for them.

When the elevator arrived and the doors closed with them inside, she narrowed her pale eyes at her companion whose hand she still held. For some reason, Zillah knew that she got played big time. "You knew I was going to cave and planned all this. What if I didn't? Would you continue walking around the city until I did?"

Mr. Lachlan looked down at her mysteriously as he replied low, "We'll never know because that's not what happened, now is it?"

Zillah thought to answer but then shut her mouth when some smart retort threatened to come out of it. He was far too smug again. It rubbed her the wrong way since he was right. They arrived at the top floor and headed down the narrow corridor of red carpet to the yellow suite door that they had been given by Mitch. Zillah imagined that it was the best in the hotel. Mr. Lachlan wouldn't have settled for anything less, and since they called him by name he must have come there a lot in the past. Perhaps with his other women? She didn't even want to think about it.

More of the luxury décor could be seen throughout the suite, from the elegant wallpaper to the interesting but whimsical details in the furniture pieces chosen. The particular star of the accommodations was the unhindered views of Independence Historic National Park of which Zillah did remember visiting before as a kid on a class field trip. She limped near the windows and took in a sudden breath before releasing it. It was indeed a great view all lit up tonight.

Zillah glanced back and found Mr. Lachlan near, but his eyes laid nowhere else but on her. When he swept her up in his arms, she gasped and looped her arms around his neck. He entered a beautiful bathroom with a vintage soaking tub where he settled her on the commode and kneeled before her. Careful ease he took in the removal of her shoes to see how bad it was.

Zillah grabbed his shoulder with a hiss. With the last shoe off all of her clammy toes, she could breathe. She realized that she dug her nails deep in his shoulder when some of the skin peeled off her toes. Her feet looked very angry from the peeled skin of the abrasion taken inside her shoes. Mr. Lachlan stood and began running water for a bath. He also added some things to the water, which were already in the bathroom in tiny bottles.

To her surprise, Zillah watched him remove his long t-shirt and undershirt at once to reveal a body that was lean and honed with a lovely cut of muscles. He unlaced his hiking shoes and kicked them off. Unbuckling the belt to his jeans and the jeans themselves, he revealed white boxer briefs she'd never dare call tighty whities on him. The jeans, his underwear, and socks all came off in short order. He turned his back on her to stop the water, giving her a beautiful view of his lean but toned backside. The gorgeous curve of his bottom ended it all with long toned legs that flashed with distinctive muscles when he walked. He then stepped into the freestanding tub.

"Join me," he invited, leaning back in the soaking tub propping his arms on the sides. He closed his dark eyes.

Zillah could not stop her breathing from the pant at the very sight of this unbelievable man. No question, he was beautiful. Even that description could not do justice to the power of it. She easily could understand why he was so vain. Women like her drooling over his dark olive skin free of hair didn't help matters either. Even his dark pubic hair seemed groomed, tamed, controlled.

The truth was, the reason she was so surprised and a little disappointed was because she believed that he would undress her and maybe bathe her again. Zillah never imagined that Mr. Lachlan was merely curious about her feet. Once satisfied, he left her to attend to himself. However, at the request he made, she realized something else, how excited she grew with the idea of bathing _with_ him.

Zillah removed her jeans first that fit so well, and then her panties. She tried not to touch her feet as they aired but could not avoid it. Wincing instead, she continued to undress. Zillah removed her tunic and noticed his eyes on her again. Without taking her eyes off him, she took off her bra and let it slowly drop to the floor. As carefully as she could, she walked toward him. She eased into the bath, facing him on the opposite side of the tub.

"Oh, wow. This feels good," she remarked, leaning back the way he did.

"I hoped it would." He looked to her with the shake of his head.

"What?" she asked although she could guess.

"You can be really stubborn, you know."

Zillah reluctantly cast her eyes away from his because it was true. She wondered if it would be now that he gloated over the situation. "I know," she admitted low.

"I have nothing but your best interest in mind."

She nodded her agreement. "I see that now."

"Don't you trust me?"

She looked up at him and reviewed the mysterious look on his face dubious of his mood. "This is all new."

"You trust me with your pleasure, but nothing else?"

Zillah began to protest but then thought about it. She frowned, seeing his point. If she trusted him with the things that felt good, why could she not extend the same trust in everything else? "I don't know."

Mr. Lachlan stared up at the ceiling with his deep sigh but said nothing for a long while.

Her shoulders slumped because she knew that she upset him. Unable to take the silence in how awkward it made her feel with him, Zillah asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Of how childish you've been today with the silly arguments and over what? Shoes." He shook his head again and closed his eyes. "But the deeper issue isn't the shoes at all, but that you don't trust me."

Zillah moved over to him with a wince but didn't care at the sound of disappointment in his voice. Mr. Lachlan shifted so that she could sit on his lap while her knees rested at the bottom of the tub beside his legs. Zillah reached to touch his smooth face that he still turned to the ceiling with his eyes closed.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Mr. Lachlan looked into her pale eyes. "Why?"

She lifted and lowered her shoulders. "I'm used to doing everything for myself."

"You don't anymore, Zillah. I want to take care of you."

"It's not something I can turn off so easily."

He tilted his head at her. "Why ... because you might like it?"

"A little," she affirmed, casting her eyes away from his again.

"Only that?"

Zillah rolled her eyes. "Okay, a lot, because I don't understand why you want to take care of me."

"You're worth it. You deserve it. Haven't any of your boyfriends, spoiled and pampered you?"

"No." She shook her head with a dry chuckle. "They liked the idea that I didn't want that from them."

He grimaced with the shake of his head. "A shame. It doesn't necessarily take money, but it should take time."

"Maybe that was the problem. We never took enough time for each other, and they always cheated on me." Zillah rubbed her hand through her hair. She didn't think she wanted to have this conversation about her failed relationships right now.

"You _will_ make time for me."

Zillah rose her hands in the air and shook her head at the ceiling. "There you go again all pompous. You ruined the moment," she accused with the downturn of her mouth.

"I won't be ignored, Zillah. That I won't stand," he stated earnestly.

Between them, she felt him growing stiff. No way could she ignore that! His dark brown eyes glittered at her with unguarded heat when she dared glance at them again. Zillah gasped in surprise for it was rare when he used her given name, but when Mr. Lachlan did, it usually was infused with a great deal of emotion. Emotions that simmered before under the surface but shifted through his dark brown eyes.

"Drake," she began but was cut off by his mouth that devoured her own. Any thought Zillah had vanished when he slipped his hands around her bottom and forced her closer to his hardness. The water of his bath sloshed up and around them.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Whatever attempt there had been to bathe failed the moment his lips touched hers. Her hands slipped into his silky hair as he rose from the tub with one hand and pressed her near with the other. With a moan, she locked her legs at his narrow waist. Drake stood successfully. He moved through the suite and into a master bedroom still kissing her. He lowered them both to the king-sized bed as he sat with her straddling him.

She arched her back when he broke from their kiss in favor of her full breast. Zillah forgot all about her feet at the heat of his mouth, teasing her hard pebble. The delight of his tongue made her tremble. The hardness pressed near the core of her need was too much for her to resist, and her hips began to grind against the stiff bulge of him. The nails of one hand ran over his scalp at his groan. Zillah's other arm reached across his back where her nails scraped over it.

Drake flipped her on her back and licked between her firm breasts he squeezed once. He groaned again at her perfection and drew lower spreading her legs wide as he came between her and dove for her sweet center. "You taste like heaven," he said and then licked her delicate petals with the skill she appreciated, suckling the core of her need like a master and making her so wet.

"Drake!" she shouted when two of his fingers sank into her soft heat.

Still, he suckled and licked at her with the drive of his fingers inside her. She arched to the pleasure they summoned, clenching the sheets in her hands until they sought his bobbing head between her hips. Taking the place of his fingers, his tongue so hot and hard took the plunge. Zillah shuddered through her limbs. His thumb found the tender flesh that sent her where he wanted her to go like a shooting star.

All at once, Zillah experienced nothing more from him, but the memory of it lingered as she fell back to Earth. A few moments later, Mr. Lachlan returned with a condom covering his erect length. In his hand looked suspiciously like her white panties. He sniffed them while staring down at her from where he stood beside the bed. There was something so hot about that as she tried to sit up to touch any part of him she could reach. Zillah never had the chance because he scooped her up just to drop her to the middle of the bed. She giggled with her sole bounce in the air.

Clenching his jaw, Drake climbed over her body. He kissed random spots like her curvy side, the delicate crook of her arm, her lovely collarbone, her long neck before pausing at her full lips. Her hands drifted through his hair, tugging him down toward her mouth, but he would not move. His hands pulled her arms from around him, kissed each hand, noting her mystified expression, and held her arms over her head.

"This is a matter of trust, Zillah. I must have it from you before I continue," Drake advised with the clench of his jaw. "Do I?"

Zillah stared into his heated dark brown eyes and nodded. Even harder, she panted for her body attempted to make further contact with his, yet Mr. Lachlan would not allow it. Helpless against him, she only felt turned on more.

"I need an answer, Zillah," he announced low.

She searched his hot eyes that restrained the passion he felt for her behind them. Wanting it freed, Zillah desired its taste and all he had to give. "Yes... you have my trust."

"If at any time you need me to stop, say so, but mean it. Do you understand?"

Zillah stared at him astonished since she could not begin to comprehend why he asked all these silly questions. Beyond caring, the last thing she wanted to do was talk about anything after what he did to her so far. If Mr. Lachlan didn't touch her soon and fill her with himself, she thought for sure she'd lose what was left of her reason.

"I understand," she replied in eagerness hoping for no further delay. Still, Zillah tried to move her hips against him, to entice him to fulfill her needs he strum to life. Nothing she did appeased the yearning running through her blood.

"Hold your wrist together for me," he commanded in a tone that said he meant to be obeyed without question. He released her arms he held down so that she could comply.

Zillah brought her wrists before her chest. Frowning she watched him loop them together with the underwear she wore today. He tested the hold making sure it wasn't too tight but kept the wrists secure together. Satisfied, he rose her arms back above her head.

Drake leaned down slowly and rewarded her with the soft feel of his lips against her full ones. Opening more of her mouth to his sensual kiss when he teased it with his tongue, she moaned at how good he tasted, of sweet decadence she'd been waiting for. Her pant began anew with her excitement running along the path his fingers touched her. The kiss ended too soon with his pull away. The same determined expression spread across his face.

"You've defied me much today, peacock, and for that there are consequences. The least of these are your own toes."

Her eyes widened as she licked her lips that felt so dry and ready for his kiss. "Are you punishing me?"

He nodded with a smile that was as sexy as hell, and she trembled with anticipation. "I am for my pleasure this time and one I hope you enjoy as thoroughly as I will."

Her mouth dropped open in alarm, but she could not find any words when he forced both her legs up in a most vulnerable position. No sooner than she gasped did she cry out, "Drake!"

Mr. Lachlan entered her so deep so fast, it hurt a little. His next thrusts were quick but shallow. Wonder filled her soft moans. Fully coated with her wetness, he returned to deep, rough thrusts one after the other. Her breast jarred forward and back with each sharp entry, and Zillah cried out again in the sheer shock of them. No pause did he take for her to catch her breath, and no warning did he give in how he ground into her now.

Grunting with his effort, Drake worked her ankles through her bound hands, yet remained careful of her sore toes. His deep thrusts not only gave him intense pleasure but maximum control to feel every quivering inch of her. The flush of arousal that took to her neck, cheeks, and chest urged him on as did the lovely cries she made each time his ground hips stimulated her aching bud that shot her closer to the moon. Miss Crawford expelled one long moan that could have been his name when he bounced her deliciously to meet his deep thrusts.

"Will you defy me again?" he asked low and slowed to shallow thrusts.

Her eyes widened for this was hardly fair. Zillah gathered with a quickness though that this was the whole idea. Her breathing was a harsh pant, and it was all she could manage as the desire flooded her. Her toes curled, but she felt no pain, only the massive pleasure of his taking.

"Nothing to say, huh? Very well, more corrective action is needed," he declared with a sexy smile.

Drake began anew with the same vigor in a delight that radiated through him. This was how he wanted her. Utterly under his control. Yes, his peacock... his beautiful peacock, helpless to take all he gave, filling her up balls deep. So damn good did she feel tightening around his shaft. Nothing in his vast experience proved more intoxicating than her yielding to him.

Mr. Lachlan took her deep on this climb, far longer than Zillah believed she could handle. His need for her shown in his dark eyes, and there was no mistaking what she did to him. It astonished her that she drove him to such lengths in his desire to consume her, to make her his. No one could want her this badly she thought and yet each rough thrust of his body into her own brought home the raw truth of his feelings.

Sweat streamed from her body mingling with his own as he thrust so roughly inside her. His hair dripped with it hanging loosely in his determined face. His lean muscles glistened with the tension built up in his gorgeous body, overwhelming her, taming her to his will.

Every part of her body shook, including her aching toes. Zillah grew hoarse from her cries of ecstasy. She wanted badly to touch him rather than her own hands. It was the worst form of torture being tied up like a pretzel and the helplessness she endured. Her legs ached like her feet, but she could not say she cared in the exceeding pleasure he gave her.

"Will you defy me again?" he asked as his thumb attended to her aching nub so sensitive that already she came with his play of it. She trembled to earthquake status, and he remained hard inside her giving her shallow thrusts again.

"Please..." she whispered with her voice cutting in and out because the man never stopped moving inside her. Zillah felt fatigued and lost in emotions driven by keen cravings. This never happened to her before, to reach the limit at which she could cope or keep up physically when she thought she was in shape. A needed break would have been magnificent because this man's stamina was killing her right now.

"No answer?" Mr. Lachlan inquired with a look that told her he was not ready to quit. If she didn't answer him favorably, he would repeat all that he had done to her. The promise of it glittered in his eyes.

Zillah shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed. As much as she hated to concede to anyone, she saw little choice in this situation where he simply held a clear advantage. She saw that this man played well to his strengths, which was to render her muddled and spent like a blabbering idiot. At this point, Zillah would have said anything to let him have his way and allow her rest. Each new moment, her yearning for him turned to soreness of her sex and her limbs alone.

"I won't," she replied quickly in her pant to catch her fleeing breath due to the shallow thrusts she continued to endure.

"You won't what?"

He still played with her nub causing shudders. Her voice lifted in pitch. "I won't defy you."

"You will address me as Mr. Lachlan or sir." He gave her a jarring thrust to bring the point home that made her quake all over harder than before. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. So sensitive to his every delicious motion, Zillah marveled at how good he felt so deep, and how much more she ached physically with his return to shallow thrusting. "Now what do you have to say to me, Zillah, for such childishness today?"

"I won't defy you, sir," she replied, hoping this punishment would now end.

Leaning down to her, his movement stopped at long last. Mr. Lachlan gave her the kiss she longed to feel all night again. The sweet stroke of his soft lips over hers almost made her forget the sting of demand in his tone a moment ago. "Good girl," he whispered and pulled out of her slowly. He sat up on his knees before pulling her ankles from around her bound wrists.

Zillah sighed with relief to lower her legs into a more natural position. In that awkward position so long, she began to feel the start of cramps in legs. Her breathing calmed further with the hope that she could rest finally. With such a full day, she felt tired and not to mention his exhausting passion for her had something to do with finishing the last bit of energy that she had left.

When she believed he would free her wrists, too, Mr. Lachlan did not. He flipped her around on her hands and knees to her astonishment. He promptly slapped her on her curvy bottom. Zillah shook her head, knowing that he had to be as tired as she. He just had to be!

"What a beautiful ass, Miss Crawford," he complimented low. Drake spread her ass cheeks to have a better look at the tiny hole hidden there. Damn! She was so sexy like this. Tied up still with her panties. Her ass in his hands where it belonged. He squeezed it before planting his face between the cheeks. His tongue licked her teasingly, and she tensed. He slapped her on the ass he still held. "Relax," he cooed as he came up for air. "My desires tonight have not been fulfilled yet."

"But I said what you wanted," she whined with a frown of confusion and lowered her head. This man was unbelievable! When in the world would he be satisfied?

Drake returned to her puckered little hole with his flickering tongue in the sheer delight of her. She was so fine to the taste. "Hmmm, and I so appreciate that, I really do."

"But...?" She knew there was more because still his hands and tongue caressed her so intimately.

"I must be true to my nature as we all must."

"What?"

"Plainly put, I'm not done fucking you yet. Those are the rules you accepted in our bargain whether you asked after them or not. I will fuck you now, how ever I choose, for as long as I choose."

Her moans beckoned him on to explore her further. This night he pushed her limits of accepting pleasure. Drake knew that she was near the precipice, but she lasted far longer than he could have hoped. Much longer than most of his past lovers, as somehow he knew she would. She hung in there, and he couldn't have been more proud or pleased with how well-matched they were. Miss Crawford took her punishment very well, indeed.

Zillah moaned at the sensual teasing of this man. Not only was she stunned by it, but even more excited than when they began. Mr. Lachlan slapped her on the bottom again, and she tensed unable to prevent the arousal he summoned at her loins regardless of how sore her body. Darnit! He knew it, too.

The truth of it she experienced with each rough thrust he gave from behind. This angle though struck new areas within renewing her hoarse cries. He failed to pause once he began full tilt, no gradual progression, only the raw full on thrust that caused a calamity of clapping of their colliding flesh.

"Oh, how my dick hungers to be inside you," he groaned with the toss of his sweaty hair from his face, "You make me feel so good."

With time, his hands forced her curvy hips into his greedy thrusts. Miss Crawford was so wet now, a few times he slipped out, but then spread that wetness along her sex and between her cheeks before he returned to fill the sweet hole of destiny. Eagerly he claimed it for himself, relishing her excited pants and yelps at his vigor, her tightness shrinking around him, urging him closer to the finish. Drake slapped her ass and watched it jiggle before he used her seeping wetness that dripped from her with each of his thrusts. He rimmed that sweet wetness around that other hole that he slipped his thumb into slowly.

Her cry of surprise mixed with trembling pleasure, he thought. "Drake!"

"Relax and trust me," he coaxed when she clenched around his thumb. "It'll hurt if you don't." At the same time, Drake went deep again, finding his cadence with immediacy. So deep, so fast like before, Miss Crawford felt wonderful squeezing around each thrust as if not wanting to let him go. It made him thrust faster now because he neared the peak of their climb.

"Oh, that's my good girl," he praised, delighted, "So good."

Drake saw her gripping for the sheets trying to stay upright with his rough thrusts but wished more that he could see her face. Did her pale eyes roll to the back of her head? Was her mouth open as she panted sharply now and so hard like she ran the marathon of her life? For now, he could only imagine how her breast jiggled. The view of her glistening backside was not so bad. Her heart-shaped ass thrilled him in the taking.

"Ah, yes, peacock! Come with me!" Drake tossed his head back, trying to get the wet hair out of his eyes as he groaned. Gently, he worked his thumb deeper in her other hole as his balls repeatedly slapped against her nub. The effect of the latter was like little shocks through her body, and she bore down on him harder than before. Loving the sound of wetness each time he thrust into her sweet cave, he groaned in the thrill of her.

Her quaking arms could not hold her up, and her sweaty face slumped into the bed. Mr. Lachlan had yet to let go of her hips. Stunned but pleased more than she could imagine, Zillah experienced the dual ecstasy of his thumb pumping her hole so gently and his cock taking her deeper. The ferocity of her shudder he instigated seemed to transfer to him. Her pleasured but hoarse cries mingled with his heightened groans that marked their lusty finish.

Leaned over her trembling backside, Drake offered a singular kiss at her shoulder. Her bottom slumped down with the rest of her body into the bed at her moan. He did not follow. Rolled onto his back at her side, he rested his hand on his chest, catching his breath. His eyes remained on her, but her sweaty hair obscured her face. The quick rise and fall of her chest let him know that she was as out of breath as he. He smiled while pulling her hair away from her face. Her eyes were closed. He gathered Miss Crawford ventured on a far different journey. Sleep claimed her after the flush of desire subsided, but it did so leaving a smile on her face.

"Peacock..." Drake whispered, wanting her in that instant, hardening with insatiable lust. He sought to invade her dreams as she already would his. Miss Crawford had done so every night since they met. This thing between them he could see had no sense of slowing down. They only plunged deeper in a world ruled by their desires. He wanted more, how much more he couldn't know.

First running his hands through his sweat-laden hair, Drake did away with his condom next and fisted the thickest part of his shaft before rubbing the sensitive head in slow strokes. All the while, he watched his peacock sleep, imagining himself inside her again where all was calm like the eye of a storm. Pre-cum slipped from him, making the long strokes easier when they turned quick and piston-like closer to the head. The climb overcame him fast, and Drake bucked into his own hand. "Zillah..." he breathed still staring at her through fogged eyes.

Miss Crawford moaned sweetly in response, "Drake..."

Perhaps even on some distance plane, she came with him. When he shut his eyes from her, trying his best to catch his breath, he found her there on the edge of dreams. Drake smiled when they joined, knowing that he was helpless to prevent the inevitable fall from coming, but grateful once again for the climb they would make together to heaven.
Chapter Twenty-eight

On the cobbled streets of Old City, they walked hand in hand like the new lovers they were. Miss Crawford smiled exceedingly. She was well pleased with the beautiful weather on the partly cloudy day. She also made no fuss at all in the clothing or shoes she needed to wear for their outing at Drake's suggestion.

In their walk, they discovered Betsy Ross's House for a visit about her crafting the American flag. The brick house turned museum offered plenty of interactive tours and live storytelling to partake with the other tourists. By the time they were done, they had looked forward to a break for a late lunch.

Mr. Lachlan took her to the old City Tavern. It boasted to serve 18th-century style gourmet cuisine, in a historically accurate replication of the original City Tavern that caught fire in the spring of 1834 where it was heavily damaged and what was left of it was leveled in 1854. Surprisingly, it wasn't until 1975 that the City Tavern was rebuilt. However, only within the last ten to fifteen years, it regained popularity and notoriety again.

Most recently that was due to the dedication of Chef Staib and his TV show featured on PBS. Besides, the history steeped in the place, the turkey potpie and founding father's inspired ale was top-notch. Neither of them walked away hungry or thirsty. Zillah and Mr. Lachlan felt ready to take in more sights of Philadelphia by walking around the city to see what other treasures they might stumble upon.

Plenty to see in Old City meant they could take their time and did. They strolled down the country's oldest residential neighborhood in continuous use that dated back to 1702. The buildings' two-story design reminded Zillah so much of parts of Georgetown and Old Town Alexandria. It was easy to draw the comparison because of the use of uniform red brick imbuing symmetry with huge shutters on the windows in the Georgian and Federal styles. The alley in particular, which Drake called Elfreth's Alley, Zillah admired for the cobblestone path that transported her to another time. From the museum of the same name, she learned that women, as well as tradesmen and their families, headed the area.

"How is it that you know so much about this stuff?" Zillah asked, gesturing around them.

"For one thing, I've lived here a very long time." He smirked at her. "The other reason is a simple truth. I played on these streets growing up. This city, for many good years of my youth, was my playground."

Zillah frowned at hearing this while they strolled through the last of the museum. She still held his hand, which by now felt as natural as breathing. Often she'd catch herself reaching for it without thinking about it, and find him taking it in hers with a smile. "And I thought you were only a trust fund kid sent abroad for schooling. Look at you the regular ruffian."

"I am, and I have been more," he said mysteriously. His smile faded as he looked away from her. "It is not something I generally discuss."

She studied him for a full minute before he distracted her with some other piece of history he knew. At the back of her mind, Zillah wondered about this man of contradiction and some mystery. Half the time she speculated what he thought, and in others, she already knew. This was one of those times where he seemed near to sharing more of himself with her, in particular about a past she had not learned of during her research of him. She did not focus too much on his early years, only those that best informed her of the type of man that he was today.

Zillah now found she wished she learned more. However, whenever she did background checks on clients, she needed to be specific of the kinds of things that would yield to her the type of personality she dealt with to ensure a sale. Her initial impression of Mr. Lachlan was that he was cold and rude in his business dealings but was so much more in his personal relationships. Passionate, romantic and starkly addictive, she could see how women would be stuck on him, or worship the ground he walked on because he did no less to Zillah's body every time he touched her.

The last place they visited was Independence Mall. Visiting it made her feel like she stepped back in time. It remained as she remembered it from her last visit as a child and so was the old Liberty Bell while Zillah walked hand in hand with her hunky billionaire...what? Was Drake Lachlan her boyfriend? If you told her this three weeks ago, maybe she would have said that you needed your head examined. What an improbability that was, to think she would ever catch the interest of such a cold and rude man!

Zillah looked up at Mr. Lachlan as he spoke with animation. He used his free hand to gesture and point while retelling of the rich history of his birthplace, in particular of the square they stood upon, and all the great things that transpired there. That small section of land seemed to her anyway so far removed from the modern city that sprung around it. A city she noted that she was prepared to conquer by foot. Zillah smiled easily while wiggling her toes in the hiking shoes he bought for her the other day. She wore them without complaint when he suggested them this morning after breakfast in the dining room of their suite. She guessed that he retrieved them from the Porsche while she slept.

Like the previous day, Mr. Lachlan planned for everything. More clothes had been procured for her like magic. Clean underwear, more casual stretchy jeans and another cute top that matched the paleness of her eyes, and Zillah wondered when he did all this, while also finding time to fit in a workout at the gym. When he woke her a little after ten, Mr. Lachlan had been good and sweaty in his athletic wear.

Deciding that she slept enough, he scooped her up in his arms, and they showered together, which had been extremely fun to soap up his body and he hers. Nothing could stop their fingers from taking their pleasure of each other. Afterward, they brushed their teeth side by side, wearing animal print robes provided by their suite and sat down to their own private breakfast fit for a king and his queen. Fresh diced fruit, toast, jam, scrambled eggs, Canadian bacon, and farm fresh sausage along with home fries made sure they started their outing off right.

The tall, lean man with her dressed in sexy dark but distressed jeans today. A long-sleeved heather grey t-shirt covered the top half of his fit body well. On his feet, Mr. Lachlan wore hiking boots similar to hers except his looked more lived-in. His medium hair he combed in a side part looking casual like the rest of him. He skipped a shave today, and so there was a bit of stubble forming at his rugged jaw that only managed to make him look the rogue he was both in and out of bed.

Mr. Lachlan gasped playfully. "My, Miss Crawford, the way you're staring at me is almost indecent." He leaned down to her ear and questioned, "I thought you had plenty of me last night?"

She gasped and then tapped his shoulder playfully with her fist. "Stop it, you walking phallus!"

He shook his head with a chuckle at her choice of insult. The fact that she would do that at all amused him more. "If you want my dick, Miss Crawford, your wish is my command."

"Stop it, I said!" Zillah snapped without any bite, feeling her cheeks burn and struck his arm this time. "You were saying?"

"Lost track of my thought now. You sure you don't want to go back to the hotel?" Mr. Lachlan murmured in question before his shapely lips stroked hers with sweetness.

Zillah moaned softly in the middle of the square uncaring in the least who watched when her hands automatically reached for the back of his head, and her long nails grazed his scalp for a gentle stroke. His hands captured her near at the waist for her gasp. His tongue swept inside, allowing her the taste of his bliss. All Mr. Lachlan ever had to do these days in order for her thoughts to muddle was a touch or a kiss.

The intrusive sound of a camera rapidly shuttering drew her attention away from her tour guide and toward an unfamiliar man. The interloper wore a dark hoodie with his wrinkled blue jeans while holding what looked to be an expensive camera with a long lens. Zillah gasped with alarm as she gripped Mr. Lachlan's strong lean arms.

"Who's the cutie, Lachlan?" the man asked as he still snapped away pictures of them while holding the camera in a casual fashion.

Zillah looked up at Mr. Lachlan in shock because it was something she had not contemplated or expected. He only stared with annoyance at the Asian man who took their pictures without asking and immediately stood before her protectively. Taking her hand, Mr. Lachlan didn't bother to answer the man, he walked away from him instead.

The Asian man with the camera clicking away pursued. "How long have you been dating?"

"You need to back off," Mr. Lachlan warned civilly through his teeth.

"Come on... give me a name," the Asian man hounded even after they entered the Hotel Monaco.

Zillah ducked her face away from the Asian man who pursued them through the bright and whimsically decorated lobby. When hotel security appeared to escort the photographer off the premises, she grinned in relief. They headed for the elevators without a word spoken between them, but Mr. Lachlan did hold her trembling shoulders.

"Hey? You okay?" he asked when they stepped off on the top floor. He paused right outside of it until her trembling subsided.

"I didn't know they could be so... aggressive. I guess I wasn't prepared for that."

He cupped her face with tenderness. "I will always protect you, Zillah. Okay? I'm sorry about that asshole. I grew careless. I thought I could go about like anyone else and not be pursued because it had been so long since I've been here, but I was wrong."

She offered a lopsided smile with the shake of her head. "No...it's not your fault. You can't help that you're a celebrity in your hometown."

Mr. Lachlan gave her a crooked smile. "I was really getting used to the anonymity in DC. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Zillah cleared her throat, wanting to put the whole thing behind her. "So where are we headed to now?"

"I think we both could use a drink."

Mr. Lachlan walked them toward the rooftop lounge. The night being young, he was not ready to return to their bedroom yet. The roof proved a cozy getaway to end the day. Cushy lounge chairs and romantic candlelight greeted them. A number of people enjoyed the ambiance seated close.

Zillah walked toward the edge of the roof and wondered where the day went. She could honestly admit that while this vacation turned out a lot different than she thought it would, she was happy that she took the risk and left New York with Mr. Lachlan. Not even the interruption of her bliss because of the paparazzi altered her mood much.

Mr. Lachlan returned to her side with a mint julep, and for him, he had his neat Courvoisier. She was even happier once taking a sip of her favorite drink that helped settle her nerves while she looked over at Independence Hall with a sigh.

"I hope you don't let that idiot sour our otherwise good day together?" he asked with a sip of his own drink.

Zillah shook her head while looking down at her feet. "I had a wonderful time with you today. Spending time with you like this, getting to know you, I feel ..."

He lifted her chin. "What is it?"

Zillah opened her mouth, but she feared to share everything building inside since she decided to come "home" with him. If she voiced it, she dreaded that maybe when she returned to DC, everything about these last few exceptional days with Mr. Lachlan would vanish like an illusion. Instead, she decided not to think about it at all, until the real world stepped in just now. It was a world that she was a part of with Mr. Lachlan because she dated him. Her life would never be so simple anymore. To think otherwise was really naïve.

Mr. Lachlan tilted his head at her with growing concern. "Talk to me, Zillah. Tell me what you're thinking right now...what you're feeling."

She turned her head away from him and smiled down at Independence Mall. "I feel like up to this point we've kinda been in our own world."

Relief surfaced on his face with a small smile. "I know, and it's been great."

"But, not real." She looked up to him with her frown and then looked at her drink before sipping more of it.

"It can be whatever we want it to be. And to clarify, it has been very real to me." He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand lightly in affection.

When she looked up to him again, she saw the serious look on his face, and the heat in his dark brown eyes. Zillah sighed seeming to melt inside. He stroked her lips with his thumb as she closed her pale eyes and turned her body fully to him. Leaning down, Mr. Lachlan offered her a taste of his liquor. Responding to him, she offered her own when his lips took hers. Gently his lips stroked hers until his tongue sought to explore further, deepening the kiss with the hint of passion that lingered near at the surface of everything. He pulled away with a pant and smiled as he caressed her face with his free hand. The press of dimples in his cheeks with his smile made her smile, too.

"There's this party tomorrow night," he said while licking his shapely lips.

"Hmmm?" she asked while rubbing her cheek against his hand with her eyes closed.

"I'd like it very much if you would be my date," he said with pride. Mr. Lachlan looked down to her pale eyes that opened to him again.

"You have to ask?" Zillah inquired because so far he hadn't asked her what she wanted to do. He merely planned everything, and she came along for the ride without any input. Thus far, she had to admit that she enjoyed herself a great deal. Mr. Lachlan was a wealth of knowledge on the history of his city, and he was such great company in general.

He teased her a lot, but she did the same back to him although hers came off a bit harsher in the form of insults that only managed to get a laugh out of him. It surprised her over the last few days how much she grew to like his thoughtfulness and adore his passion. Dangerous things in combination, Zillah found it hard not to be caught up in him. Her feelings for him grew by the day, and she worried that she could not slow them down.

Mr. Lachlan said with the twitch of a smile, "Didn't know if you had plans or not. The fellow you're with seems awfully possessive of your time."

Zillah giggled yet played along. "Maybe but he must be true to his nature as we all must be."

"So true." He chuckled with a glitter in his eye in the way she threw his words back at him. "Might I steal some of your time, Miss Crawford?"

Her smile grew. "A party does sound fun. After so much history, it would be nice to enjoy the modern side of your city, too."

"With you by my side, fun is all it could be."

Chapter Twenty-nine

Drake thought for sure the next day when he suggested that they participate in an in-room spa treatment that she might turn down the idea. That could not have been further from the truth. Miss Crawford loved the idea of being pampered in such a way with an organic deep tissue massage as well as hot stone.

Zillah experienced something similar in New York. She loved the opportunity for more of that sort of attention. At the hands of the masseur Vic, Zillah was transported to another place of calm relaxation that really made her vacation. Mr. Lachlan knew that was exactly what she needed.

Drake participated in the Swedish massage him, but afterward, needed to make arrangements for the evening, which meant more shopping. He never minded such things, but on such short notice really cut it close. Therefore, a trip home seemed appropriate while Miss Crawford continued to seek all the treatments to her liking. He encouraged her to take all that she wanted since it was her vacation after all.

While his intent was for them to return to his home in the outskirts of Philly, things changed, and they lingered in the city. Drake did not mind the change as the two of them felt closer as a result. The drive alone was quick and gave her a break from him hovering. When he made it back, he found his peacock napping away the day with a blissful smile on her face. Drake hated to awaken her but knew that they needed to get ready for the to come night. However, he was sure her preparation would have been much easier to do with her own things, so he drove home to get them.

"Thank you so much," Miss Crawford gushed in awe of his thoughtfulness.

"You're welcome." He chuckled as he watched her mutter to herself about what in the world she would do with her hair, but since he brought her belongings, she had more ideas of how to look her best. She pawed through the bag of her accessories and make-up kit. Several clothes were pulled out and mused over as she sighed in relief. "I'm sure I have a cute little black cocktail dress that would do nicely for this party you were telling me about."

"There is always this," Drake offered when presenting Miss Crawford with a long berry red gown of chiffon and lace with flirty little sleeves, along with a V-neck and back.

She gawked at him. Drake swallowed a bit worried at her reaction. It stirred up quite an argument last time when he bought clothing for her. He wasn't positive how well she would take him doing so again in light of her having her own dresses to choose from.

"It's a really fancy affair then?"

He nodded. "It is."

Miss Crawford surprised him by smiling as she looked at the gown and touched it. "Thank you. I'm sure I can make this work with the shoes and other things I have."

"We'll be leaving at six o'clock. Hopefully, that will give you enough time to work your magic."

She looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly three in the afternoon. She'd have to work fast and cut corners where she could. "I'll make it happen."

He nodded and left her to it. Using one of the other bathrooms in the suite, Drake showered and shaved with his own favorite products brought from home. He added a little product to his hair for control and worked a smooth side part. The strands were combed away neatly from his forehead and sides working it toward the back. After that, he donned his classic tux with white silk pocket square, double vented jacket, single button, and gold cufflinks to match his gold pinky ring that belonged to his father but had been given to him when he turned 30.

While he waited for his date, Drake decided to check in on work, which he had not done intentionally since he left for New York in pursuit of his peacock. He wanted no distraction other than Miss Crawford. Making himself comfortable on the L-shaped cream leather couch in the corner parlor, he made the best of the time left. Seated cross-legged in that space gave him great views of Independence Mall. By far, it was his favorite spot in the Majestic Suite.

Review of his phone showed that Drake missed a few calls, three from Sabrina since they made up. He was still in no hurry to speak with her. Two missed calls from his other friend Leo who wondered after his success in smoothing things over with Miss Crawford. The last message was from his assistant, giving him updates on the most crucial of matters.

Judy directed him to review his emails for more detailed information as she only summarized the situation at work in the voice mail. He read through many messages scanning them quickly while ranking them in importance and then setting them aside to deal with later. He desired to only respond to the matters of utmost importance, which Judy required his input to proceed. He trusted that all other issues would and could be handled by his capable staff of which he forwarded to their attention for action.

It wasn't long before Judy called him. "Sir, is all well?"

"Fine. Just catching up on emails."

"So I see."

"How goes it there?"

"Some fires needed to be put out, but I took care of them. Everything in detail has been relayed and posted to email."

"And my special project? How close are we to completion?"

"From what I've been told, it's yours, sir. All there is at this point is the formality with the paperwork. The lawyers believe the first week of June you will have assumed control and added it to the Cadda Group."

"Great news," he said while touching the front of his silk shirt and staring off at the magnificent view.

"You don't sound thrilled."

He cleared his throat with a frown as he glanced in the direction of the bedroom where Miss Crawford still made ready. She had not emerged yet as Drake glanced at his watch. He would not bother her until the last moment they needed to leave. "I am."

"Could it be that you're distracted about the party tonight?"

A half-smile spread across part of his face. "You know me so well. A little, I suppose."

"You are going this year, aren't you? I've been asked more than once if you were by the party organizer."

Drake chuckled drily. "Barring some catastrophe, yes, I'm going."

"I hope you try to enjoy yourself, sir."

"I always try, not that I do." He looked to the door that held his peacock and smiled fully. "Maybe this time it will be different."

"I'm sure it will be whatever you wish it to be, sir."

Drake chuckled at his assistant who always knew the right thing to say to him. As such and the fact that she was indispensable, he could not do without her. Judy knew his habits well and served him loyally. Such things were hard to come by these days. "You are so optimistic sometimes, Judy, it shocks me."

"I am what you need me to be always, sir."

"We'll talk in a few days. Glad to know you're holding things together until I return."

"Of course, you can count on me, sir."

"Bye." He chuckled and clicked off the line and deposited his phone to his inside pocket.

Having reviewed all the emails he intended to read today, Drake stood and searched the mahogany shelves for something to read until his date finished making ready. Fingering the spines of books, he found a familiar one. A bittersweet smile emerged as he tugged the warn paperback from the shelf. Perhaps when he last stayed there, he left it behind. He opened _Things Fall Apart,_ and the pages fluttered to his favorite passage in the book. He began to read.

After some time passed, Drake heard the shifting of material near a console table just ahead of him. When he glanced up, his mouth opened to take more air. He stood and closed the book absently. Drake returned the paperback to its bookshelf, turning to his date fully in the eager rub of his hands.

Buttoning the front of his jacket, Drake squared his shoulders and watched her approach. At last, Miss Crawford floated toward him wearing the berry chiffon and lace, looking a vision beyond his imagining when shopping for the gown for her. Her up hairdo to the side with loose tendrils from the side sweep of her bangs was pinned down to show off her small dangling silver earrings, which matched the glittery peek of silver heels on her feet as she walked.

Her latte skin, by far, was the star feature. It positively glowed against the V-neck of the gown and flirty little sleeves just off her delicate shoulders. Her make-up as always was sophisticated with a smoky eye that drew attention to her amazing pale blue eyes, and her berry lips made him desire a taste of her fruit. Much more the look in her eye stole his breath, the heat of desire burning in their depths as she reviewed him in his favorite tux.

Miss Crawford lifted her arms and then struck a pose standing in the middle of the parlor. One leg was visible through the peek-a-boo lace up to her thigh. "Do you approve, Mr. Lachlan?" she asked seductively and braced both hands along the curve of her womanly hips.

Drake swallowed when he stepped closer. "You are a stunner, Miss Crawford, and I find I do not want to leave this suite. I'm feeling rather selfish for wanting you all to myself tonight."

Her smile spread with knowing as he reached for her, but she turned away, heading for the door before he could touch her. "I don't think so. I took far too much time looking this good not to go anywhere." She found her cute emerald clutch purse she left on the console table by the door. Miss Crawford opened the suite door and then glanced back to him over her shoulder. "You coming?"

The V-neckline dipped low at her toned back to the simple bow tied at her waist, and he shook his head at the sexy sway of her hips walking out the door. Drake had no idea how in the world, he would keep his hands off her tonight, yet he would do his best to control himself. Every time he gazed at her and she at him with her knowing smile, he gathered that she realized her power over him. It was an uncomfortable shift for him, and something so foreign to be denied when he understood the object of his desire wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her pale eyes revealed it along with the flush of her cheeks.

No denial could be made in their mutual attraction while waiting in the elevator. When he stared into her eyes and she into his, they needed no words to relay their desire. It crackled with life between them. When Drake tried to make a move, Miss Crawford would not let him kiss her. She merely put up her hand to his shapely lips, and her other hand to his firm lean chest. She shook her head in refusal. Therefore, Drake grasped her hand in both of his, since she left only her knuckles for his kiss. Tonight would be interesting indeed for a multitude of reasons. He took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

Chapter Thirty

The Rittenhouse, another luxury hotel in Center City's west side, overlooked Rittenhouse Square Park. Before the entrance, looked to be a huge crowd of paparazzi. Flashing lights nearly blinded them as the paparazzi snapped their pictures and shouted for the city's elite to pause just so for the cameras. Zillah and Drake awaited their turn in the queue of limos to gain entry.

As Mr. Lachlan indicated, he took appropriate measures so that what happened yesterday would not be repeated. He and Zillah had been escorted to the party with a full complement of bodyguards and a chauffeur who looked like a bodyguard. She was confident they would keep any of the overzealous camera hooligans at a comfortable distance. The men Mr. Lachlan hired were big and intimidating military sort. They said little but were polite when they did speak. Regardless, Zillah felt a lot more at ease with them around.

This hotel's decor was not whimsical like the Hotel Monaco, but it had the warm comfort of being very modern and sophisticated in its clean palate of color and style. It was not nearly as fun, but less busy and more refined Zillah thought. Traditional came to mind as she expected and frankly more boring as Mr. Lachlan led her up to the second floor where the Grand Ballroom awaited.

Strangely, her date had been very quiet, saying little in the car. He seemed wrapped in his own thoughts while she checked her make-up for the seventh time before she was satisfied that she could stand up next to her handsome date. Zillah could not help but steal glances at him, amazed that she was with him at all.

Since the party already seemed underway at their arrival to the Grand Ballroom, several people greeted them warmly. To all, Mr. Lachlan made sure that in each introduction that he made Zillah known by name, including that she was an investment banker from DC and his girlfriend. He said all of it with a proud smile and then the conversation went from there about how much he was missed in the city and wonder lingered over what he had been up to that kept him away.

Zillah felt immense flattery by Mr. Lachlan, identifying her as his girlfriend to his acquaintances and business associates. With it, she experienced giddiness warming her belly that had nothing to do with the champagne she took. It originated from Mr. Lachlan who veered no further than her side, holding her hand throughout while drinking his own champagne.

"How nice of you to show up, lad," the handsome older man with a trimmed beard said in a slim-fit tuxedo that sported a white jacket instead of the traditional black. A kind of lilt was present in his voice, maybe British. Zillah wasn't sure because it could have been Scottish or Irish, too. All that was certain was she heard an accent of some kind that wasn't American but refined and clear. "There was a wager going on if you would actually show up for my birthday this year."

Mr. Lachlan turned in that moment after excusing himself from a friend and clenched his jaw at the older man with dark blue eyes and dark brown hair mixed with dashing hints of silver. The only thing that Zillah could see that seemed similar between the two men was their body build. Both stood tall and lean, yet the older man had a fairer complexion.

"Happy birthday, Father," the younger man greeted with a lot of tension in his jaw. "I hope I did not lose you too much money."

Zillah immediately saw the friction between the two men but could not understand why while looking between them. The older man said with a smile that looked so much like Mr. Lachlan's cool aloofness upon their first meeting it was uncanny, "A massive winner to all actually. I remained the only one who held out the hope that this year you would make it." He gestured to him with a chuckle. "And, so here you are and with such bonnie arm candy in tow. No big surprise there."

"The arm candy has a name, sir," she interrupted without offense, "which happens to be Zillah, Zillah Crawford." She held out her hand where the older man needed to switch his champagne flute from one hand to the other to take it and give a brief shake.

He took a sip of the sweet golden liquid as he eyed her with interest before returning his dark blue gaze to his son. "And so you are my son's newest plaything. This one looks strong enough not to be broken."

"My girlfriend," Mr. Lachlan corrected with a strained smile as he stiffened. He glanced back at Miss Crawford and gestured with his flute, "Zillah, this is my father, Thomas Lachlan."

"There's a first in a while." His dark blue eyes widened for only a moment at his son before he reviewed Zillah with the lift of his dark eyebrow. "You're a Philly girl then, child?"

She offered him a charming half-smile with her hand on one curvy hip. "This _woman_ who stands before you is a proud Washingtonian, sir."

"Aww, yes, from Washington state, are you?"

Zillah shook her head at the old man who looked moderately curious. "No, the Nation's Capital city is where I've been born and raised."

Thomas pointed to his son like he remembered something. "That's right you did retreat south, didn't you, lad? Nasty business with that other nonsense you were involved with here."

Zillah frowned in her glance to Mr. Lachlan, who looked uncomfortable for only a second. She wondered what in the world this "other business" could involve. When she thought to ask, the conversation went on without her.

"Zillah here is an investment banker. In fact, that is in part how we met." Mr. Lachlan gazed at her with a coy smile. She knew that was only half-true and tried not to blush too much in consideration of the real first meeting that took place at the Underground.

"In part?" the elder Lachlan questioned with the rise of both his dark eyebrows and finished his champagne, which he gave to a passing hotel server. "Intriguing, you must explain that."

Zillah expressed as delicately as she could without telling the whole truth, "We met in a club of some exclusivity but had no idea who the other was. It was a masked party, you see, but hit it off quite well before being introduced through work."

"A career lass are you?" he inquired in his review of her again and then glanced to his son. "Well, if you know my son at all, he's a creature of indulgence. And dating a lass with a brain isn't one of the assets he looks to procure."

"Well, sir, he has been fortunate enough to overcome such a shortcoming in his pursuit of me."

Mr. Lachlan nearly choked on the champagne he drank before he gave the glass away to one of the hotel servers.

"And a worthy pursuit you are, Miss Crawford." The older man looked her up and down again with a smirk when his critical dark blue eyes met her direct pale ones.

Zillah nodded her concurrence. "I have an ambition for business and body for gratification, both of which your son has been lucky enough to partake."

"And not without some challenge," Mr. Lachlan chimed in with the twitch of his smile in amusement of his bold peacock. She never failed to amaze or amuse him.

She chuckled feeling more than a bit cheeky for some reason looking back to her date. "Where's the fun in something easily taken?"

"Whoa, lad, better watch out for this one," his father warned with the shake of his finger at his son who leaned close to him.

"Believe me, I know," Mr. Lachlan acquiesced with a chuckle. "It's been this way from the moment we met."

"Sounds like you have your hands full. Better do your best to hold on to this one," the old man advised with the thoughtful rub of his chin. "I like her. She reminds me of your mother, so bold and so beautiful."

Mr. Lachlan looked to his father astounded and then asked, "Does she? I hadn't noticed?"

The older man blinked at him in surprise. His dark blue eyes took a faraway look. "Your mother...she was vibrant, my lassie." He chuckled softly. The light of it, and his smile transformed his face into something very handsome.

"You thought so?" Mr. Lachlan asked with a stunned expression still.

"A beauty beyond anything I'd ever known. From the moment I met Mamee, she had me spellbound. So fiercely independent. She did things her way." He chuckled again, and when a server offered him another flute of champagne, he took it. Sipping it, he gazed at Mr. Lachlan with his strange gaze. "You look so much like her, it hurts to look at you sometimes."

Mr. Lachlan stared back looking stunned still as he touched his face. "You loved her," he said quietly and lowered his drink from his lips forgotten.

"She was the only one of them I ever lost my heart to. There were many before and a few after her. Only she held my heart in her hand. I would have married her if she accepted me."

Mr. Lachlan frowned in alarm. "I never knew that."

The old man's smile turned bitter. "Oh, yes. It's true, and a lesser-known fact, too. Mamee turned me down. So proud, my lassie. She wanted no man to take care of her or put limits on her or how she lived her life. She loved her freedom...my gay, wild gypsy." He downed all of his champagne and shook his head. "Your mother was such a damned mystery to me."

Mr. Lachlan shook his head in amazement. "She never told me."

The older man nodded. "She was secretive, too. I'm not surprised. With drama following her wherever she went, it was no wonder. But, she was loved, by everyone who knew her. Me most of all."

The silence that followed the last statement grew awkward and so Mr. Lachlan decided to change it. "A number of Zillah's plans have come through very well in Cadda's favor," he praised while squeezing her hand in his when he glanced at her.

The older Lachlan pointed at her when he seemed to come out of his nostalgia. "So you're the one responsible for the change in investment strategy. More risky."

Zillah gazed at her date but then at the last moment his father when she responded, "Someone told me once that you cannot expect a great reward without great risk."

Mr. Lachlan squeezed her hand that he still held as his eyes glittered at her with wanton heat. Zillah immediately felt her cheeks redden further in her blush.

The old man chuckled with the quirk of a half-smile. "I told him that."

Mr. Lachlan nodded and smiled tentatively at his father. "And it was very wise, Father. It has remained with me all these years and seen me through many tough decisions."

The old man merely looked at him in surprise and smiled broadly with warmth. "If I may have imparted any wisdom to you, I would hope it was something good and lasting that could be passed on maybe in the years to come." He cleared his throat and struck his fist on top of Mr. Lachlan's shoulder.

"I'm sure the things Drake's accomplished in not only maintaining the success you established in Cadda Group during your tenure but also exceeded make you proud, sir. It is quite impressive how your son has continued to build on your lasting legacy and more than doubled the rate of return for the company's capital assets in the 11 years he's been president and CEO."

"You are well informed, young lady." Thomas lifted an eyebrow in a review of her again.

"It's the nature of my business to be," she said with a knowing nod.

The old man nodded as he looked to his son. "What he has accomplished is impressive, yes. I look forward to seeing what the future holds."

"So do we all," Mr. Lachlan agreed with a smile of pride.

The elder Lachlan pointed at both of them with a smirk and the lift of one dark eyebrow. "The tabloids say you two are in love."

"I'm sure they say lots of things, Father," Mr. Lachlan stated with the astonished lift of his dark eyebrows. Zillah's eyes widened and felt her cheeks burn with the plummet of her stomach.

"By the way, you two have been looking at each other since your arrival I would say that's not far from the truth." The old man smacked him on the shoulder. "Good show, lad! You've been gone for more than seven or eight months now and made it back to the top with front-page exposure. I'm sure you've missed all this attention in the Nation's Capital?"

Mr. Lachlan shook his head with a grimace. "It's been very refreshing actually that no one cares about me there."

Zillah turned to him with a sweet smile and touched his chest along the satin lapel of his tuxedo jacket. Mr. Lachlan looked down at her with heat, and she stared back with the same excitement she flowing through her. "You're wrong. I do," she confessed with warmth and meaning it.

He kissed the knuckles of her left hand that touched his chest. "I happily stand corrected."

The old man cleared his throat and returned to his cool expression, he greeted them with, but his eyes told a different story as he gazed at his son for a moment. Perhaps there was a bit of affection hidden there, and the same could be seen in Mr. Lachlan's eyes toward his father. "I must work more of the room," Thomas announced in the way of excuse or dismissal, "We'll talk later, lad. I hope to see more of you now that you're back in town."

Mr. Lachlan simply looked to the older man in shock without saying a word. He appeared speechless for a moment. "Yes, of course, Father."

"Happy birthday, sir," Zillah said as the old man moved on and nodded to her with his smile.

Chapter Thirty-one

The evening ventured down a path unexpected. In it, his father celebrated his 68th birthday with some new very young copper-haired woman hovering near. All of Philadelphia's elite attended and the only present the philanthropist and retired president and CEO desired was a generous donation toward cancer research.

Drake's astounding interaction with his father ... now that had the makings of something mind-blowing. When in his presence, the old man had a way of making him feel like a little boy again even at 38 years old. He was sure that feeling would never go away as he shook his head.

Drake leaned down after a moment and released the breath he held. He kissed the side of his date's head near her temple softly. The tension building up in his shoulders all evening in anticipation of seeing his father was gone. "You are simply amazing," he whispered with awe. "Father said he likes you, and that man, I swear, never says that about anyone...ever."

"Perhaps people can change when you least expect it," Miss Crawford suggested after sipping the last of her champagne. A server drew near to take the flute off her hands, and she nodded her thanks with a smile before she looked to Drake.

He glanced to her and laughed at that statement. Once Drake had been very idealistic but dealing with his father stamped that right out of him. "If so, why now after all these years?"

"Mortality looks a lot different when your 68 rather 28, don't you think?"

"You think his perception of things has changed." He tilted his head as he thought about that and sipped more champagne. "Maybe."

"Something has changed about him. You seemed so surprised by what he said about your mother."

Drake looked to her with the shake of his head, not believing at all the things he heard today from his own father no less. "You don't understand. My father has never spoken of her in my presence. Every time I tried to bring Mamee up, he would shut me down. After a while, I stopped trying."

She frowned at him with a sympathy that warmed him when she stroked the lapel of his jacket again. "Perhaps he must have loved her very much and was hurt about losing her?"

His frown deepened with the rub of his mouth thoughtfully. Drake watched his father amongst the crowd gathered around him. Thomas Lachlan charmed them as he was prone to do when he wanted. The old man held their undivided attention. Many of the guests laughed at some animated story he told. "I always assumed that he left my mother when he grew bored. I'd seen him do it over the years with countless women."

Miss Crawford shook her head. "But from what he said, it sounded like your mother was quite a woman. She turned him down and broke his heart when she refused him."

"It explains why maybe he didn't know she was pregnant with me."

"Did your mother ever speak about your father at all?"

"Mamee?" He chuckled drily again. "No matter how much I asked after him, she would tell me nothing really. Only when angry with me would she say something about how stubborn I was like my father. Otherwise, she would never speak of Father either. I know it brought her sadness, and she never wished to dwell in such a state."

"Is this why your relationship with him has been strained?" she asked with curiosity as she blinked up at him with those observant pale blue eyes of hers. He could seem to hide nothing from them. They saw right through any attempt.

"You can tell that, huh?" He chuckled drily again. Miss Crawford responded with a nod only. "Our relationship has been ... complicated," he said with a sigh.

"So it sounds, and your mother? Was it so complicated with her?"

Drake put on what felt to be a bittersweet smile. "For as long as she lived, as Father said, she was loved by all who knew her, most of all by me."

She looked away from him with her frown. Zillah guessed that his mother passed away some time ago. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you pain, Drake."

He stroked her cheek lightly. "So am I, but we have that in common, don't we? Knowing the loss of our mothers while children?"

She gasped as she backed away from him a step with a deepened frown. "You know about that?"

Drake nodded solemnly for he wanted to know all about her before knowing she was the peacock. Perhaps that was what he found so compelling about her. How similar they were in their struggles, and from those things, they found the strength to persevere. He closed the distance between them again. "You were thirteen when you lost her in a car wreck."

"Yeah, it was on I-95. That night the news said the hail in the storm was as big as golf balls. Mom came home late from working as a clerk for city councilmember Larry Smith at the time." Her eyebrows drew together, and she swallowed. "Mom and I argued, and the last thing I told her was that I hated her for divorcing Dad. Why couldn't she forgive him for cheating? It seemed everything Mom did was to make Dad suffer, and I didn't want any part of it. I told her I wanted to go live with Dad because she drank too much and was hateful all the time. And when that big rig driver fell asleep, he made sure I got exactly what I wanted."

Drake frowned as he stroked her cheek that turned a bit ashen. "I'm so sorry."

She tried to smile and take comfort in his affection. "I only pray she knew I didn't mean all those awful things I said. I should have told her I loved her despite it all. The hardest lesson I learned, of course, was about the nature of cheating." She snorted at the irony. "I understood why she was angry at my dad when boyfriends kept doing the same to me."

He shook his head and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "They were fools, peacock."

"You bet they were, and now you reap the benefits."

He chuckled and nodded. "I definitely do, just as I know that our similar experiences in losing our mothers shaped who we are today. Everything changed when I lost my mother. Wasn't it the same for you?"

"Oh, yeah. It wasn't long after that Dad became an ordained minister and then a pastor. The transition seemed unreal and drastic, but not to him, which I came to understand later. Worst of all, I could never get away with anything. Shoot, people were always watching and snitching on me."

"What a tough life," he said with an amused smile on his face.

"I know, right?" Miss Crawford rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Thank God for Autumn. How dull life would have been without my wild best friend getting me into trouble."

"I can only imagine as Autumn would have to be to so completely consume the fascination of my best friend, Leo."

Zillah nodded and giggled sweetly. "She's just as crazy about him. Believe me. He's all she talks about."

Drake rolled his eyes at the thought that every conversation with Leo revolved around that woman. However, he was happy for the man whose love affair still went full speed ahead. "Leo's the same way. He's followed her now to some photoshoot in Antigua."

"Would you mind me asking...?"

"Ask me anything," he said once relinquishing his empty flute to one of the servers that drifted by. He declined a new glass instead of taking up Miss Crawford's other hand.

"How did your mother die?"

An old pain shifted through his dark brown eyes. He looked away from her for a moment and took a deep breath before he released it. "Cancer started in her ovaries and spread everywhere, so fast and aggressive. Just turning nine, I didn't really know she was so sick. No one did. She kept it secret, being very proud, and not wanting any pity. She ran her little dance studio on the south side of Philly up until the end. She gave the run of the place to her former dance partner and best friend Alex. He still runs it today with his daughter Gigi. So brave, Mamee clung to life with every ounce of fight in her and never complained or grew bitter. Her only regret was that she could not see me grow up into the man I was meant to be. She made me promise her to have courage and never let anyone dictate my fate."

"What sound advice." She squeezed his hands gently in sympathy. "No wonder you dance so well."

He looked at her and smiled softly. "She was a beautiful ballroom dancer and won several championships in her day. Like you, she seemed born to it. Graceful and looked light as air on her feet. I loved watching her, and every night before she closed the studio, no matter how tired she was or how her feet ached, she always saved the last dance for me."

"It sounds like she loved you very much."

Drake chuckled dryly. "Her world revolved around me and dance, of course. I expected the same kind of love from my father when I was sent to him. I had all kinds of dreams of what he would be like." Shaking his head, he glanced down at his hands and then found his father chatting up a gathering crowd around him who shortly began laughing. "Reality was sobering."

"That good, huh?" she asked with the cynical lift of her eyebrow.

"I was quite a shock to this very proper gentleman. To me then, Father seemed rather callous, and distant. So different, mind you, from Mamee who was giving to anyone no matter their lot in life, so kind to everyone, too, whether she knew you or not, and warm to those she loved. Now, I realize the shock of it for him. Father had no clue that he had a son for almost ten years walking around in the world. Mamee never told him I existed and I'll always wonder why."

"To protect you? Maybe she feared losing you to your father?"

He sighed with the shake of his head but knowing that was a possibility. "There were tests that needed to be done, and of course, they proved I was his bastard."

Miss Crawford's frown deepened with her shocked gasp.

He waved a hand in dismissal, but at the time, it grated him something terrible. Drake endured a lot worse over the years, and so developed much thicker skin now. "My grandparents referred to me as such for years until they passed away. Father did the best he could under the circumstances, not knowing the first thing about caring for a child. He had no others and never married. So he sent me away out of the States to boarding school like his parents had done to him. That became my new reality."

She stroked one of her tendrils thoughtfully. "Your interest in the book Things Fall Apart makes more sense to me now."

"Does it?" Drake queried as he came out of his thoughts to look at her. He traced one of his fingertips along her jaw, and she stared into his eyes.

"How did you say it: 'But his whole life was dominated by fear...'"

"'the fear of failure and of weakness.'" He added with a nod recalling their most interesting conversation at the Round Robin Bar in DC on the same subject. "I also told you the quote from the book was a reminder that fear should never be a driver but conquered in all things."

"Right." She nodded with the tilt of her head at him, looking impressed that he had thoughts beyond lust. "You are like your father in some ways."

"Am I?"

"Maybe at one time you feared this to be a bad thing, a weakness. This conflict in you drove you to want to be better than he was to conquer that fear, but at the same time your whole life you've sought his approval. Deep down, I think you want your father's love, too, and maybe today for the first time you gathered a glimpse of its possibility."

Drake blinked at her in surprise by how much she could infer from so little information. "You think so?"

"In his own way, he does love you, Drake." She cupped the side of his face in her hand with her warm smile. "How could he not? Look at the great man you have grown up to be, and all you have accomplished."

He took her hand that she touched his face with and kissed it tenderly. "You do me more honor than I deserve, peacock."

"Well, I'll tell you what I really deserve right now, Mr. Lachlan," she said with a bit of mystery regarding him with heat through her lashes.

"Oh, yeah? What?" he asked, gazing down to her with glittering heat and interest.

"A dance," she said while staring back at him with the same heat flushing her cheeks.

The stage had been equipped with several musicians in a small chamber orchestra. There were strings and woodwinds amongst them along with a piano. The music they produced sounded like Straus so that plenty of people already danced. Others merely helped themselves to a buffet-style feast while they watched.

Drake gave her a most gallant bow and held out his hand. "One of the many pleasures I've been looking forward to all night."

Miss Crawford curtsied and retook his hand with a broader smile.

Side by side, they walked hand in hand to the space reserved for dancing. Drake slipped his hand around to her back as she took a sudden intake of breath. She grabbed a handful of her gown and took his other hand that rose to shoulder level. As she followed him around the Grand Ballroom in a waltz, her berry red gown fluttered around them. They moved smoothly across the floor, joining the couples who already danced. Thrilled Miss Crawford giggled at the grace her date incorporated in his single spins of her. Easily, she followed him as she had done previous times.

Drake smiled in the joy that filled him to the brim along with the tightening around his chest and particularly his heart. Warmth flooded it like the light glittering in her eyes. No moment could be more perfect. No woman could have been more beautiful in his eyes or to his senses. _His_ woman....

Chapter Thirty-two

After several dances with her handsome date, a plate or two from the scrumptious buffet as well as a few more sips of yummy champagne, Zillah required a bathroom break. She needed to check-in with her make-up, and make a deposit to the facilities. After washing her hands, she stood before the mirror admiring the dress she had been given. Mr. Lachlan had a fantastic fashion sense. The dress highlighted her delicate shoulders and sexy bosom without being gaudy or drawing too much attention to her bottom he loved. Just classy like she always tried to be.

Zillah gave herself a touch up from her compact for the shine she saw on her forehead and reapply her fading lipstick. She wasted little time in the make-up check being eager to return to Mr. Lachlan's side for more dancing. Finished, she headed back to the Grand Ballroom, when someone touched her shoulder and inquired, "Excuse me, miss?"

Zillah turned about toward a tall white man wearing a crumpled dark plaid blazer over stained brown slacks and a simple button-down striped shirt. His golden-brown hair was cut close to his flaky scalp evidenced along his shoulders, and he had a curved scar on his clef chin that seemed highlighted by scruffy brown facial hair around a thin mouth. His light hazel eyes shifted around her with caution before focusing on her with an intensity she found mildly disconcerting.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked because he didn't look familiar, not that she expected he would. She didn't know anyone in the area other than Mr. Lachlan, who came from Philly.

"No." He flashed his badge too fast for her to get a good look at it. "I'm Det. Frank Jones with the Philadelphia Police Department."

Zillah stood a little straighter as her frown descended, and her eyes narrowed. "What's this about, detective?"

"Drake Lachlan. The man you've been seeing."

Her stomach bottomed out like she plunged in a sudden roller coaster ride while standing still. What would the police want with Mr. Lachlan, and why did this detective wish to talk with her about it? "What about him?"

Det. Jones leaned in closer, and Zillah backed away back from him in alarm. The strong smell of alcohol drifted to her from his breath. His light hazel eyes also looked bloodshot now that she took a better look at them. The detective had been at it for a while then.

He asked low without a slur, "What do you know about him?"

"Excuse me?" She stepped away from him again, but he only stepped closer, and she began to feel uncomfortable. Something about this encounter didn't feel right. "What kind of question is that? Is he under some kind of investigation?"

"Not officially," the detective said with some tension in his jaw.

Her frown grew more disturbed. "What does that mean?"

"There's a reason why he left Philly. Have you wondered?"

Her eyes widened because Zillah had and asked Mr. Lachlan about it along with the fact that he was living so long out of a hotel. "To expand his business and to get away from the paparazzi."

"No, that's what he tells everyone." The detective shook his finger at her with a sly smile. "I know for a fact that it was to escape his part in a murder."

" _Murder_ ...what?!" Her mouth dropped open as her pale eyes widened at him. Why hadn't that come up on any of her background investigation on him?

"Don't you know? Didn't he tell you?"

Her eyes narrowed even more in suspension and unease. "Know what? Tell me what?"

"About his last girlfriend named Nicole?"

"No. What about her?" Zillah shook her head because they didn't talk about exes, and she never asked after his because she didn't want to know. They only briefly discussed Sabrina, but no one named Nicole.

"Nicole allegedly took a swan dive off the top of a high floor balcony."

Her eyes opened wide with her hand over her mouth in a gasp of shock. "How awful for Drake."

He glared at her and pointed at her face. "Don't you dare feel sorry for that no good bastard! It's his fault!"

Zillah stumbled back from the detective as spittle flew from his mouth in a sudden rage. She didn't want to hear this. She shook her head. "Are you saying he had something to do with her taking her own life?"

"Damned right, I do! He's gonna pay for what he did. Mark my words!"

Her eyes were still wide as she tried to ease away from him since clearly, the man was not in his right mind. The anger and spittle notwithstanding were reliable indicators this man was near violence, and she should not provoke him. "While tragic, what you're describing does not sound like murder, detective," Zillah tried to reason in a calm tone that did not match the rapid beat of her heart or the line of sweat, developing at her forehead and back of her neck. "It's suicide."

Det. Jones approached her and attempted to touch her. "I don't mean to shock you, but these rich guys think that they have all the power and control to do whatever the hell they want. Not on my watch, they don't. Just because they have money doesn't mean they're above the got-damn law. Well, I'm not gonna let that bastard get away with it!"

Zillah backed away from him before he could reach her. "How can you be so sure he murdered Nicole?"

He stated with narrowed eyes, "I know he did. He manipulates until he gets what he wants."

She backed into the wall with a sharp intake of breath. "Why are you telling me this?"

The detective seized both her arms and gave her a rough shake. "Don't you see? To warn you!"

Swallowing hard, Zillah asked calmly still, "If you suspect him, why don't you charge him?"

"No one can see the connections, but I see the connecting dots. I know how he thinks. He doesn't fool me like the others."

"Please take your hands off me," she said evenly. It grew harder to remain calm.

The detective frowned at her as he shook his head with the downturn of his mouth. He removed his hands. "He's got his claws in you, too. You're in love with him."

Zillah walked around him. He was quick even with the stink of alcohol floating around him strongly. She could not escape him or the damn wall. "I'm hearing a lot of hearsay and conjecture but no proof."

His eyes bore into hers, and he seized her by the upper arms again. "It's all too convenient, don't you see?"

She gasped, trying to push him away from her, but it was no use. The detective wouldn't budge and breathed his boozing fumes in her face. _Ugh._ "No, I don't."

Det. Jones leaned into her face shaking her again. The alcoholic fumes made her eyes burn as she turned her head while squinting at him. "I'd hate for you to end up another one of his victims. When I saw the photos of him kissing you, I knew he was at it again. I knew I needed to warn you to get away from him before it's too late."

Zillah stabbed her heel into his foot to get him to release her. He yelped in pain and bent to his injury while she grabbed a hand full of her skirt and scrambled away from him. Nearing the Grand Ballroom again, she ran into a big man in a black suit. With a startled cry, she stumbled backward into the detective who pursued her and grabbed her arm roughly again. "Let me go!" she shouted.

His face broke apart in a seething rage. "Not until you listen, dammit! He's a bad seed. Stay away from him!" he ordered as he shook her. "Do you hear me? Do you?"

"Miss asked you to release her," the big military bodyguard Mr. Lachlan hired ordered intimately with a grip on the detective's shoulder. A group of ladies walked by them, chatting away and seemed oblivious to them. "Now, sir."

Det. Jones released her with his hands up. The bodyguard released him. The drunk man backed away while glaring up at the bodyguard with his hate. Zillah stepped closer to the big man when he turned his glare on her. "Remember what I said." The detective turned and hurried off, rubbing his shoulder the bodyguard grabbed.

Zillah's eyes widened in focus on the bodyguard whom she reached a hand to with relief once the detective was gone. She leaned into him heavily feeling unsure what to believe, but what she learned shook her to the core. Had this been what Mr. Lachlan's father mentioned arising several months earlier? Probably.

"Miss, are you all right?" the bodyguard asked gently with a look of concern and touched her shoulder. She jumped, and he withdrew his hand.

Her head swam with her thoughts, and her heart beat too fast. Zillah shook her head as she touched her heart. How could this be? Was Mr. Lachlan involved the way the detective instigated? Or was Det. Jones after him for some other reason?

"Find Mr. Lachlan. Miss Crawford is not well," the bodyguard said into his earpiece.

She shook her head when she looked up at him, but the bodyguard merely smiled at her kindly. "Come. You need to sit before you pass out. It's shock."

"Do you know him? That man who attacked me?" Zillah allowed him to guide her with his strong arm braced at her shoulders. They headed to one of many cushioned seats in the wide corridor that led to the event spaces.

The bodyguard clenched his jaw as he answered low, "We have run into him before while watching over Mr. Lachlan."

"He's so angry."

He scanned the hallway before looking down at her where she sat. "There is bad blood between them."

"Because of Nicole?"

He nodded with a bit of reluctance as he looked away from her again. "There's a restraining order against Jones not to step foot within 1000 feet of him. I believe he's been fired from the police department, too, because of his continued harassment of Mr. Lachlan."

"What?" Zillah stared up at him in shock. Fired? No wonder there was bad blood, and now she understood why he flashed his badge so fast. It must have been a fake just so he could get close enough to talk to her.

His dark bushy eyebrows drew together, and his thin mouth fell in a line. "I'm sorry, miss, for not intervening sooner."

"What's your impression of Mr. Lachlan?" Zillah asked him. She felt adrift looking for a life raft to save her.

Shocked? Oh, she was all right. Was this her greatest fear? That all she built with Mr. Lachlan over the last few days was too good to be true? Of course. The other shoe dropped finally. Shaking her head, she imagined at some point this would happen. Everything, including her love life, felt on track for once. Work was great, and Zillah earned a promotion. She met someone interesting.

Drake Lachlan excited her. Over the course of the last few weeks, she fought hard her attraction for him knowing how unserious he was in his personal relationships. Now, she didn't but risked the embrace of her feelings without restraint. In the time they spent together, she found that she liked him very much. He teased her wickedly, and she loved every minute of it.

The bodyguard kneeled to her and reached to touch the top of her hand, leaning on the arm of the cushioned chair she sat in. In a low tone, he said, "Don't listen to Jones' poison, miss. Mr. Lachlan ... he's many things, but beneath it all, he is a good man."

Zillah looked away from the stranger. She wanted to believe the earnestness of his reply. She pulled her hand from beneath his, and it joined her other hand to cradle her head. Her thoughts and impressions were a great jumble. She was still unsure.

Mr. Lachlan was so much more than her initial thought. He was cold and aloof when needed for business. Beyond that initial layer, she found a man of profound wit, knowledge, and passion. His body stimulated hers with pleasures that dwarfed other lovers and his mind...Zillah sought to understand more with each passing day, just like the heart of him. To say that she developed an affection for him was without a doubt true, especially after the revelations of tonight.

His kindness? It had no measure. Mr. Lachlan was so generous with his time and money for the causes he cared about and the people close to him. Just pondering it reminded her how thoughtful he had been toward her since they met. They argued as to be expected in being different, but even those disagreements Zillah enjoyed while coming to understand his motivations and the depth of his desires.

Could this same man who controlled everything in his life commit such a horrible crime? If not, then why was the police detective so sure he was guilty? Zillah found it hard to believe that someone would want to say such an awful thing about another human being for no reason at all. There had to be more to this.

Mr. Lachlan rushed down the hall and frowned at the bodyguard kneeling before Zillah. The bodyguard jumped to his feet and cleared his throat without saying a word when his boss took his place. "Zillah," Drake said with concern.

When she heard his voice, she stood, raising her head from her hands. Without thinking, Zillah recoiled from Mr. Lachlan's touch that reached for her. His frown deepened in alarm when his hands dropped at his sides.

"What's wrong?" he asked in trying to see her eyes and then looked to the bodyguard with his confusion.

The big man informed with solemnness, "Det. Jones was here, sir."

"The _former_ detective," Mr. Lachlan corrected as his mouth formed a line. He held his hand out to Zillah in a halting fashion when he stared at her alone. "I don't know what he told you—"

"He told me about Nicole," she revealed, cutting him off and reviewing him warily.

Drake clenched his jaw. "Did Jones also tell you that Nicole left him for me, and he's dogged me over it ever since?"

Her eyes swelled with this new bit of knowledge. "She did?"

Mr. Lachlan glared at her with disquiet. "Even after Nicole and I broke up, Jones wouldn't leave me alone. I think because she never went back to him as he hoped. By then, she was in love with me."

Zillah blinked at him and commented quietly, "But you've never been a love-seeking kind of man, only the fling-seeking kind."

He shrugged with a sigh. "She pursued me as they all did then, and it was fun. That was how I led my life, and I made no apologies for it."

Zillah pointed to her chest. "I'm not judging you."

"I know you're not. _I_ am." Mr. Lachlan sighed as he looked down for a moment to gather his thoughts. "For what it's worth, I didn't know until after Nicole and I began seeing each other that she had an on-again-off-again relationship with Jones."

"Would it really have made any difference?"

He clenched his jaw at her direct gaze. "When I told Nicole, I was not interested in being anyone's sloppy seconds, she broke it off with him. Jones couldn't let her go."

"And, he harassed you ever since which was why you issued the restraining order against him."

Mr. Lachlan nodded his agreement with a glance to the bodyguard who averted his eyes. "It only escalated the matter, but at least prevented us from coming to blows. Nicole and I ... I knew it wasn't going to work, but I enjoyed our time together while it lasted. I didn't feel the same way she did, and never would so I broke up with her. When she finally realized that and saw me with another woman, in her despair at how quickly she was replaced, she killed herself. Nicole was more fragile than I realized. Of course, I could have handled our break-up better when she became very clingy and desperate. I was meaner than I felt proud of. It's a regret that I live with every day." He shook his head in shame. "Maybe I could have done something different. Anything. If I had, then she... she might be alive today."

Zillah covered her mouth thoughtfully, staggered by all she heard. That explained Det. Jones's animosity. He blamed his ex-girlfriend's suicide on Mr. Lachlan just like he blamed the man for stealing his girlfriend in the first place. What a mess it! Zillah sighed in sympathy for the anguished expression dominating Mr. Lachlan's face as he gazed at her.

"Oh, Drake," she whispered in sadness. She ventured near but hesitated before she hugged his tense body. "I'm so sorry."

Chapter Thirty-three

Drake stroked the back of her neck just under her hairline and then her bare back as he slowly wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to take comfort from feeling her arms around him, but he worried. "I'm sorry, too," he said in a low, remorseful tone, "that I might ever see doubt in your eyes. That you don't know me. That you don't understand me hurts more than you can know."

Miss Crawford pulled away from him with distress in her pale blue eyes as she stared up at him. She caressed his grave face with tenderness. "Drake..."

He stepped away from her fingertips but offered his hand to her. Mr. Lachlan shook his head, not wishing to discuss it further, she guessed. Whatever worry floated through his dark eyes vanished behind a mystery wall of coolness. Zillah recognized it from the first time they met in his office and didn't like it.

"Come with me now. Please?" Mr. Lachlan implored in an even tone while still holding out his hand.

"Yes." She nodded and failed to hesitate again when she took his hand.

Guiding her away from the Grand Ballroom, Mr. Lachlan headed the way they came. Zillah looked back to the party still in full swing and sighed in regret at how the evening turned sour. Frowning in disappointment, she guessed they were leaving. While it seemed they only just arrived, she supposed it was for the best. The more she thought about it, she didn't feel much like a party anymore anyway.

Drake glanced to the bodyguard beside him. "We're leaving. Get the car."

The bodyguard nodded dropping behind them and walked with the other guy she noticed only now. Both big men spoke lightly into earpieces updating the drivers of the vehicles they arrived in she imagined. At their approach of the entrance to Rittenhouse, the paparazzi clamored for their photographs. Mr. Lachlan ignored them as he put his free hand up to his face. Zillah cast her gaze downward, focusing her attention on not tripping over her berry gown now that they made it outside.

The bodyguards kept the photographers at bay, and Mr. Lachlan ushered Zillah safely into the black limo before him, which took off once they both made it inside. Twisting back to look through the back window, she wondered about the other two men. The bodyguards entered a black SUV that closed the distance and followed the limo. With a new sigh, Zillah then glanced to the serious face of her date looking off thoughtfully at the interior of the spacious limo much the way he had when they arrived at the party.

Drake looked to her briefly and saw the wariness in Miss Crawford's pale eyes. The world once again infringed on his happiness with his peacock. Her eyes broadcasted what he lost with her. Precious, hard-earned trust. How could he regain it? Clenching his jaw, he comprehended that there could be only one way to repair the breach. Drake was willing to lay it all on the line at this point.

Gathering his thoughts, he could find no words of comfort for her. Not yet. What he stood to lose if he didn't do this right remained at the forefront of his mind, which was why he desired to leave the party. Radical measures were necessary to counter the damage the former detective wrought for him. Under no circumstances did he intend to lose Miss Crawford. Not when things progressed so well in his favor with her.

No words did either of them volunteer once they returned to the Hotel Monaco on the east side of Philly. In the elevator, more silence followed them, and Drake accepted that it created a barrier he would break very soon. The lasting hope and only connection remained physical in holding her hand he refused to release. Reentering the suite, he let her precede him, and so let her go. Miss Crawford entered the parlor with the sexy sway of her curvy hips, and Drake followed her after placing a Do Not Disturb sign on the suite door. He then locked it for he intended that they would not be interrupted for a while.

Heading near the refrigerator, he asked, "Would you like a drink? I could really use one right now."

"Yes, please. Make me whatever you're having," Zillah responded as she rubbed her arms up and down. She drifted to the corner of the parlor where he sat earlier on the L-shaped sofa and stopped before the coffee table.

Drake reached for the crystal decanter that housed his favorite cognac. Amongst the crystal snifter glasses situated on a crystal tray, he chose two in which to pour the Courvoisier L'Essence. Walking beside her, he handed her a stemless balloon glass. With a smile, she took the offering and then looked back toward the views of the city the suite allowed.

Zillah gave her liquor a swirl before taking a sniff noting the scent of sandalwood and toffee. Closing her eyes, she took a sip and smiled at the full-bodied richness of dried plum and apricot. When she opened them slowly, she understood why Mr. Lachlan liked this cognac so much. It was as fine as he was tonight and every night she spent with him.

Drake stood beside her with a sigh before he took a sip from his balloon glass. "One hell of a night, huh?" he asked casually but felt anything near it. His stomach tied in nervous knots, and he hoped the liquor would calm him.

"Filled with all kinds of revelations," Miss Crawford whispered with a sip of the liquid that warmed her slowly. Her free arm still rubbed the other as she licked her lips.

"For both of us," he agreed and sipped more liquor.

She nodded with a small smile. "I liked your dad."

Drake blinked at her with wonder. "Did you?"

"He's charming like you are."

He smiled with the adorable press of dimples. "I learned that from him."

"And from your mother? What did you learn from her?" Zillah asked curiously since he spoke so little of himself or his past. Slowly though over the last few days, she learned a few things he shared of his early childhood when he lived in Philadelphia.

Drake considered the question a moment before he answered with softness in his smile. "How to love. The art of dancing. The appreciation of women... their beauty and strength."

Zillah bit her lower lip and turned to him because so many questions filled her head, but she continued to only come to the same ones over and over again. "What's going on here, Drake? With us?"

"Something new... something beyond the flings I've shared with others."

"Six months ago, you couldn't conceive of more with Nicole. Think about it. Has so much really changed since then with the redhead Sabrina or me?"

His eyes regarded her mysteriously, and she could not read them. He replied low, "A lifetime can change in a moment if the person is willing."

Her heart beat in her throat, but she could not prevent herself from asking the question she most wanted an answer to. "If I fall in love with you, will you break-up with me?"

Drake sighed for he understood her reservation with him now had everything to do with her encounter with Jones. "What happened with Nicole...while unfortunate is different from what I have with you, Zillah."

"Is it?" she asked while searching his mysterious eyes because she couldn't see how it was. The conundrum continued to nag her since learning about it.

"I want more now."

"Why?"

His eyes softened on her. "You are unlike anyone I've ever known. I don't know how to let you go."

"I keep thinking you're a dream." Zillah waved her hand around with a snort. "And this is all a dream, and I'm bound to wake up, and my reality will be so bleak. I'll never be able to go back to what I had before knowing you."

"Because now you have a taste for finer things," he said with a knowing smile. All his females grew spoiled with his attention to them and particularly the things he bought them. It was one of the things he liked to do, but their development of a materialistic side that he encouraged could be a drawback as well.

She licked her lips that were so dry like her throat. "Yes...for all of you."

Again, he was reminded that Miss Crawford didn't care about the things he bought her and as she looked to him with heat in her pale eyes he knew what she wanted had nothing to do with material possessions. "And you have me, peacock," he said softly, meaning every word. She had him from the moment they met both times.

"For how long?" she wondered with the doubtful lift of her eyebrow.

He sighed with the clench of his jaw. "I can't see the future, but I know what I want in this moment."

She shook her head. "Every time I think I've turned a corner on this, the world crowds in and twists everything I feel."

He took her glass and lowered it with his to the coffee table. He then reached for her face. "I'm not going anywhere, peacock. We are no dream that will fade." Stroking her cheeks gently with both thumbs, Drake gazed into her pale eyes. She continued to frown at him.

Miss Crawford pulled away suddenly and flopped on the couch with a defeated sigh. He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. She came readily, resting her head on his chest alongside her hands. At her ear, she heard his rapid heartbeat. It matched her own. She closed her eyes.

"I can't lose you," he whispered with the stroke of her head gently before kissing it.

"I'm falling in love with you," she whispered back.

He lifted her face to him and saw the tears of fear in her eyes. "Oh, peacock..."

She rose to stand with her back to him and balled her fists at her side. "I-I'll understand if you want me to go."

"Go? I don't want you to go anywhere."

"These last few days... they've been wonderful. More than I could hope for. I could feel it happening so fast taking this risk with you, and I wanted to stop it. I tried, but I can't. I ... I know I'm falling in love with you, Drake." She brought her hand to her face and closed her eyes. "Is it over now? Is that the reward I get to take with me back to my reality in DC?"

He stood to face her and kissed the top of her bowed head. He lifted her chin to him as he clenched his jaw at the tears that slipped from her scared eyes. "It's not over."

"But...with Nicole she loved you and you—"

"Shhhh... peacock," he cooed as he interrupted and stroked her tears away in a relief that flooded him with the start of a bright smile. "You can't know how much it pleases me to hear your feelings."

"It does?" Zillah queried, stunned with her sniffle. Studying him, she saw that his eyes filled with joy along with the heat. There was so much of it! She gasped at the tightening of her belly and then the burst of butterflies. This reaction she hadn't anticipated from him at all.

Drake leaned his head closer to her, staring her deep in her pale eyes. "Yes, because I've suspected since our picnic on the hill that I'm falling in love with you. The very thought of losing you scares me right now when you make me so happy, Zillah. Happier in every moment I've spent with you than I've been my whole life. Not being a very good man, how could I hope to find someone like you so perfect for me in every way that matters?"

"You are a good man, Drake," she said with conviction when she brought her hand to his face again. "You are."

"See? Too good for me, peacock, and too sweet to my senses." He touched her hand that stroked his face. "May I kiss you now?"

She smiled at him crookedly. "You have to ask?"

He smiled wider as his eyes glittered with amusement as well as everything else he felt for her. "Someone said I'm very audacious. So for once, I thought I might ask for what I want rather than simply taking it."

Parting her lips, a new pant rose from her. Lifting her head up, she offered her mouth to him and closed her eyes. "Drake..."

His hands caressed her shoulders before they pulled down her gown to expose her breasts. As Drake knew already since it had been driving him mad all night that Miss Crawford wore no bra. Her full breasts greeted his hungry eyes free of any barrier. He did not hesitate to offer his kiss to both with a groan of pleasure.

Zillah sucked in a soft breath when his kiss moved down to each nipple. They hardened at the warmth of his mouth and flicker of his tongue. "Drake..." Of course, she believed that he wanted to taste her lips since he stared after them in want all night. As usual, this man had other ideas. She should have known better after his skilled hands finished undressing her. The berry gown fell in a pile at her silver feet. He was such a tease.

Miss Crawford wore red thong panties as his hands traversed her bare bottom save for the narrow strand of delicate cloth, but that was not all. Stockings...she wore nude thigh highs without a garter! His fingers brushed over the lacey tops with his breath catching in his throat at how sexy they were on her. He sore under his breath. No woman could compare to her bountiful curves that fit his hands. How could he want anyone more? Miss Crawford slayed him every time he looked at her. She was such a lady, and so much more.

Her hands drew down the front of his jacket, which she unbuttoned. Drake removed it and then watched her hand rise to his neck to pull his bow tie loose. She tugged it from around his neck and sniffed it. Her smile was sexy as she then let it fall out of her hand to her side. Hurriedly he removed his cufflinks to the coffee table unable to take his eyes off her. She unbuttoned most of his shirt for him before he tugged it from his slacks. Miss Crawford reached over his shoulders, touching the olive skin beneath the shirt. She took her time running her hands down his flexing arms to remove the shirt and let it fall to the floor behind him. Stepping closer, she put her nose to his lean, smooth chest and inhaled deeply with her eyes closed.

"I love how you smell," she whispered as she drew her hands back along his muscular arms and down his chest as she splayed her hands over his hard abs. "And how your skin feels."

His head aimed for her berry lips at last, but Zillah slipped away from him as she lowered into a squat since her hands journeyed down to his waist. Drawing to his center, she unbuttoned his slacks slow and easy, nibbling the middle of her lower lip before looking up at him. His dark brown eyes burned in a hotter flame of anticipation, and his lips parted as he darted his tongue along their shapely curve. Zillah unzipped him as his breath caught and reached to the sides of his narrow hips. Where he used to be buttoned in by his slacks, she kissed him lightly. Looking up to him again, she pulled his tuxedo slacks and black Icebreaker trunks down lean thighs.

His member sprung free with Mr. Lachlan's groan. It rose and thickened before her pale eyes. Zillah released his slacks and underwear to touch his bare hips in the wonder of her study. Gazing up at his total package, she encountered the same heat of desire in his eyes that ran through her.

Drake felt her hot breath on the most sensitive part of him before her sweet mouth took him deep inside. "Fuuuuhhh—" he began but cut himself off when he felt himself at the back of her throat. His head fell back with his pant of excitement he could barely control. Miss Crawford's lips were so soft in their stroke of him. Her tongue so wet and warm further seduced and made him hers.

She moaned and rolled her tongue around him. Her soft fingers wrapped around the thickest part of his shaft for a sensual stroke, too. For sure, Drake claimed a new bliss in the climb she ushered through him. Both her soft hands took their time to build from nothing to such speed all in sync with her delightfully wicked mouth.

He hissed as he watched her enthralled, "Ahhh, that feels sooo good."

Gently Miss Crawford squeezed his head before lowering her soft hands to massage the rest of him dangling with need. So often neglected, but not this time. Not by her, she tugged and massaged the most intimate parts of him gently even as she vigorously tasted him with salaciousness. Evidence of her berry lipstick trailed her path all along his shaft to his further delight.

"Oh, yes! That's it, my sexy girl! That's how I like it," he coaxed when he saw her gaze up at him with a heated fog that told him she enjoyed every minute of what she was doing to him. More than once, she throated him mightily, shoving him deeply, making love to him with her mouth. Drake was sure he felt her tonsils. He touched her head with tenderness wanting badly to run his fingers through her hair, but it was still pinned. Dammit!

"Come," he demanded and urged her by the arms to stand when he could bear no more of this. Blinking at him, Miss Crawford allowed him to pop out of her mouth and took a deep gasping breath with tons of saliva dripping from him. Good thing too, because he felt ready to blow. Damn! Her sweet hot mouth was such a treat. Drake grabbed two handfuls of her tush with her gasp and giggle after she stood. Encouraged, his head dove for her hard pebble. He suckled her breast in much the same way she had done his family jewels.

Zillah cried out sharply when she wrapped her arms around his neck and drug her long unpainted nails through his hair and along his scalp. Panting out of control, her thoughts muddled happily in the moment of his taking. She tilted her head back, thrilled in her knowledge of his feelings that bordered the strength of her own. Her legs wrapped at his waist, wanting to be closer to him. Zillah arched her back, enjoying the greedy suckling of his hot mouth. She moaned her soft ecstasy when he suckled the other pebble with the same delicious attention.

Licking around her sensitive areolas made her giggle along with his shuffle backward, underwear slacks sagging at his knees. Mr. Lachlan bumped into the L-shaped leather sectional and lowered them to it. Zillah gasped when she felt his teeth graze her before he laid down the length of the couch. He squeezed her bottom as he licked and sucked her alternating between her full breasts seeming to give them equal time with his hot mouth.

Drake groaned at the taste of her, in response to her soft moan while cradling his head closer to her. "Turn around now, peacock," he ordered when his mouth released her nipple after a kiss to it. "I want to kiss your petals and taste your sweet nectar."

Panting harder than before with the speed of her heartbeat in doing something different, Zillah lifted off her silver shoes and awkwardly did as he wished while she faced his stiffness once more just at a different angle. Mr. Lachlan reached up to her generous bottom to rub and squeeze it with a hiss before he pulled her thong aside. He tasted her with the eager shake of his head buried between her. His tongue lined her pretty pedals, and his lips offered light kisses.

Her moans rose with the roll of her eyes to the back of her head. She tried her best to concentrate on tasting him once she wrapped her hand around him in firm strokes. When he licked her so well, and his fingers joined his exploration, she found her focus drifting. Her hands stroked him faster though while she panted in her escalating moans. Soon her mouth played with his tender head with the same eagerness he paid to her.

"You taste so good, peacock," he groaned, licking his lips and kissing her garden with reverence. "Turn around and face me."

She turned around again with care while Mr. Lachlan kicked off his slacks and underwear. She lowered her mouth to his but paused above them. Searching his heated eyes for the love he declared, she found it and smiled tentatively. With the tilt of her head, Zillah kissed him with the tenderness she experienced swelling within her with a warmth in her soul. The truth of his feelings saturated his eyes matching her own she was sure of it.

Drake drew his hands around her curved backside and responded to the sensual stroke of her lips without hurry. His tongue shared her nectar. Hers shared his spice. Both groaned at the thrill coursing through them again. Unlike the other times they endured the rush of passion for each other, a love blossomed within their hearts. The loneliness that plagued them had been replaced with a new elation. One of love born beyond their desire renewed.

Mr. Lachlan brought his hands up to her round face and stroked it lightly with his thumbs as he gazed at her. Her eyes glittered at him with her smile of love. His peacock loved him! He could see and taste it and made his heart hammer in his chest at how fortunate he was, how lucky to gain it.

Zillah pulled away from his hands to sit up and sit beside him instead of on top. He rose up with a frown until he saw her arms rise up. She reached to remove the pins from her hair. There seemed to be quite a few of them that she tossed on the coffee table. In the meantime, he removed his socks and found a condom in his slacks. After tearing it open, he rolled it on to make ready. Waiting, he caressed her gorgeous back with his fingertips and kissed her shoulder.

Shaking her hair out when done, Miss Crawford ran her hands through it with a sigh that sounded like relief. Drake shifted behind her and kissed her other shoulder as she looked to the side and smiled at him. He kissed the curve of her long neck as she sighed with pleasure. Her hand reached back to his head for a caress. His hand ran at last through her tousled curls and exposed her ear to his soft kiss. He smiled, loving the feel of it and of the woman he loved. Drake whispered huskily, "Lay with me just like this."

Miss Crawford laid with her back to his front at the same time he did on the sofa. His arm wrapped around her shoulders while she turned her head to face him on her side. Slowly, Drake brushed her lips with his in softness. His hand clutched her breast with possession, and she moaned at its brand. He paused in his teasing kiss to lick his other hand and coated that wetness on his member. His eyes holding hers, he lifted her shapely leg still clad in stockings straight up so that he could gain better access between her from behind. He rubbed her with the length of himself while she panted her anticipation.

Her frown began as he pushed himself inside her tight opening. Mr. Lachlan was so big as she took a gasping breath. Zillah experienced the first of his shallow thrusts staring into his eyes. She touched his handsome face flushed with his desire and filled with his love for her. He drew closer to kiss her again with all he felt. Her soft moans surfaced with the sound of his name.

In time when she grew slick in her stimulation, Drake ventured in the plunge reaching around her leg to secure her close to him and to sweeten her pleasure at his fingertips rubbing her bud. With eagerness, he watched her take off. Miss Crawford leaned her shaking head back against his arm and helped lift her own leg with the urgent cries that sounded from her in reaction to feeling him deep and teasing her through the climb. Her other hand reached for his arm slung around her still clutching on to her breast.

Her body jerked up and down with his faster thrusts venturing as far as he could go. Zillah reached for his determined face, and he sucked her finger before his head dove for her aching breast. Mr. Lachlan sucked her hard pebble into his mouth with a groan speeding up his thrust even more at his pant. Cries of pleasure sounded from her at her trembling summit, and she yielded to it happily falling apart while staring into his hot loving eyes.

Her walls closed in on him, and so Drake took that time to change position. He sat on his knees, still lifting her same leg up straight before him. He entered her again but moved deeper at his will. He watched her perfect breast bounce up and down pleasing his eye. Her hands reached above her to brace against the arm of the couch. Drake moved faster than before at this new angle that brought them both incredible pleasure. Watching her toes curl, he sucked them into his mouth, stockings and all. God! She was so sexy!

"Oh, Zillah..." he groaned, marveling how he could never get enough of her.

Her sweet cry followed, "Drake!"

Rendered helpless to only take what he gave while embracing her leg, Zillah watched the beauty of his lean but muscular body glistening in sweat coming into her own, claiming more of her for himself. Her pants matched his in the excitement of their newest journey. Once more, the climb reached its end with her walls closing in on Mr. Lachlan's efforts. He shifted again to a new position, this time between her lovely thighs. His hands greedily grabbed for her full breasts teasing his eyes with their bouncing. When he slid home so deep giving her all, his mouth found hers waiting, hungry for his.

Zillah slipped her hands against his face and into his hair and along his scalp. His tongue responded, diving deep as he did below. It was so good, making this climb with him again. His firm body shifting over her own, tasting him like some liquor of the finest quality, made just for her. His scent covered her mixed with sweet sweat. His incredible heat burned through her adding to her own.

With the pleasure building at the flame of love inside, there seemed to be no end or beginning. Nothing to lose, but her heart she gladly gave to him. Zillah yielded to her base desires knowing that Mr. Lachlan was right there with her. No doubt about his feelings lingered at his enthralling kiss, tender touch or when she stared into his heated dark brown eyes that captured hers.

Striding together along the same path, meeting and burning throughout, happiness spread with the sweet ache of the giving. They moaned together, tasting the ecstasy of their making, losing themselves in it, yet suffering no regrets. Like every other time they came together, there was only one truth. Desire ruled their wanton actions toward completion, but love ruled their hearts to reach a place that could only be heaven.

The End.

Thank you so much for reading!

I truly hope you enjoyed my book and check out my other offerings!

About the Author

Amy F. Turner is an avid writer and reader of romance in all its various forms be it contemporary, fantasy, paranormal or erotic. When not engaging in her literary passions and conversing with like-minded individuals, she spends time with her understanding husband and needy pussycat somewhere in Midwest America.
Other books by this author

Here is a list of ebooks by Amy F. Turner, which can be found at your favorite online retailer:

Books of Erotic Short Stories with various Authors

Sensual Games: Part 1

Sensual Games: Part 2

Novels

Wicked Tryst

Hidden Dragons: A Love Story

Hidden Dragons: Fallen

Connect with Amy F. Turner

Thanks so much for reading my ebook! I would love to hear from you. Please contact me by:

E-mail: amyturner4us@gmail.com

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