“Come on, let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?” My voice was ten octaves higher than normal. Or at least it seemed that way to me.
“That’s our ride,” he told me, nodding back toward the bright lights.
I shook my head vehemently. “Uh-uh. Get back in the car and let’s get out of here.”
“Cassidy, I called Dr. Minkov myself to confirm what the driver told me. Apparently, she’s taking extra precautions to make sure her location remains a secret. I’m not sure what the big deal is, but you really wanted to do this, so let’s do it.”
“Let me get this straight,” I began, still astounded that he was being so nonchalant about the scary weirdness of our current situation. “We’re given an address to an empty parking lot where a strange vehicle closes us in, and then we’re instructed to leave the safety of our car to get into said strange vehicle to be taken to an unknown secret location to meet up with some sex doctor, and none of our family or friends know our whereabouts…and you don’t see a problem with that?”
“Oh, this has probable homicide written all over it,” he admitted. “In fact, I think you just described the plot of like a thousand horror flicks, but…”
“But what?”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” He chuckled at my disapproving scowl. “Cass, you trust Dr. Sparling, right?”
I nodded. At least I thought I trusted him. It was entirely possible he could be a member of a cult, in charge of sending unsuspecting innocents into a trap so they could be strapped to a sacrificial altar to pay homage to some gruesome deity with a thirst for blood.
“He’s the one who gave us the referral, and he did say Dr. Minkov’s methods were unusual.”
“Unusual? That’s an understatement.” I worried my bottom lip as my brain went haywire, recalling all the reviews I’d found for Dr. Sparling online. Not only that, but his credentials had checked out. I’d done the research myself, and I trusted my own findings far better than anything Google could throw out there. On the other hand, I hadn’t found anything on Dr. Minkov at all.
“Cass, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
Men and their machismo. Almost every one of them I knew thought they were bulletproof.
“Are we going or not?” Shaw prodded. “I have a feeling Dr. Minkov doesn’t like to be kept waiting, so it’s sort of a now-or-never kind of deal.”
Feeling the urgency of the moment, I made a quick decision that I hoped I wouldn’t live to regret, if I came out of this alive at all. “Okay, fine. But if we die, I’m so going to kill you,” I said, grabbing my purse and getting out of the car.
I heard the distinctive two-tone beeps of Shaw locking the car and setting the alarm, and then he joined me at the rear. Placing a hand at the small of my back, he escorted me toward the back door of the black sedan. I tried to get a look at the driver in case I’d need details for a sketch artist later, but the front windshield was completely blacked out. As were the rest of the windows.
The driver stepped around the car and met us at the back passenger door, opening it for us. I hadn’t even seen him get out. What, was he made of shadows? At least I was able to get a good look at him. He was much taller than Shaw with broad shoulders and thick arms that he kept at his sides as he waited for us to get inside. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes or hair since he wore sunglasses—at night—and his hair was cropped short beneath a driver’s hat, but I did get a good look at the tattoo on his right hand. It was the side profile of a lion’s head with long, sharp canines and a serpent’s tongue. It could have been something artistic, but it seemed more like something found in a crest of some sort. Maybe even for that fictional secret society that was becoming more real by the minute.
Leery as I was about the whole situation, I got into the back, sliding along the smooth, soft black leather. Shaw got in behind me, relaxing into the cushiony seat as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The driver did nothing but nod when Shaw thanked him and then the door was closed.
“Um…so this is odd,” I said, realizing that not only could no one see into the car, but we also couldn’t see out. Except for the front windshield. Until the driver got inside and a blacked-out partition lifted into place, and then we were essentially blindfolded with nothing more than the muted illumination of a floor light.
I was reminded of a wet dream I’d had so very long ago. A dream I still believe had been an implanted suggestion when my friends had recommended I sleep with Shaw in order to knock him off his game, when we’d been competing for the partnership. I crossed my legs, the memory of it so naughty a sudden need began to blossom at my core. I’d never told Shaw about that dream. Looking at him now, I wondered whether he would have tried to reenact it if I had. We were so far away from that place now. I’d do anything to get back there, though.
Even get into a strange car with a scary driver to be taken to an unknown location.
Shaw reached over and took my hand, giving me a reassuring smile. I gaped down at where he held me, the act such a small thing, but it had been so long since he’d done even that much, I hadn’t realized I’d been missing it. Until now.
We rode in awkward silence for a while, having no clue where we were or where we’d end up. After a bit, I heard the distinct sound of gravel under tires, the car’s weight shifting ever so slightly, as if traversing uneven ground. We had to have been climbing because gravity pushed me back into my seat ever so slightly. And then we came to a stop.
Shaw squeezed my hand. “Well, guess we’re here.”
“Wherever here is,” I mumbled.
The car door opened and our chauffeur took up the same stance as before, giving us enough room to exit. Shaw offered me his hand again, and I took it, following his line of sight once I got out.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting—an office building, for sure—but instead it was a house. Splendid, but still just a house. And we were on top of a hill that looked out over the ocean in the distance from an A-frame log cabin with solid glass that made up the entire front. The giant trees that encased the house on both sides swayed back and forth in the ocean breeze, the sound of waves crashing on the shore in the distance a comforting cadence during an otherwise anxious moment.
The driver uttered his first words as he closed the car door behind us. “Dr. Minkov is waiting for you inside.” His voice was a deep baritone, almost Lurch-like in its cadence.
Again, Shaw thanked him. And again, the driver only nodded in response as he went around to get back into the car and pull away.
Shaw again put his hand at the small of my back. “Ready?”
“Not really, but I guess there’s no backing out now,” I said, letting him guide me toward the porch.
By the time we’d climbed the steps, I saw movement inside the house. A well-dressed man in a suit greeted us at the front door, opening it wide before we’d had a chance to knock. “Shaw and Cassidy, I presume?”
“That would be us,” Shaw answered.
“Welcome to the home of Dr. Katya Minkov. Please, come inside. Dr. Minkov is expecting you.” He stepped to the side with a courteous smile to allow us passage before shutting us in.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to her office,” he said, taking up a comfortable pace forward as we fell in line behind him.
I couldn’t help but look around in awe of Dr. Minkov’s home. Though the floors and walls were made of a polished red cedar, the fixtures had a contrasting elegance of gold and crystal. The huge chandelier of teardrop crystals that hung above the main living space gave off prisms of rainbow light that reflected off the front floor-to-ceiling window, which provided a picturesque view of the moonlit ocean. A warm fire of driftwood crackled in the fireplace, scenting the air with a natural fragrance. Large area rugs and runners of deep red and cream to match the leather furniture covered the expanse of the flooring, giving the place a cozy sort of feel.
Down the corridor and to the left, we followed anoth
er hallway toward the back of the house, where our guide stepped inside the open door to a room.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable. Dr. Minkov will be with you shortly.” He bowed slightly, motioning for us to enter the room, and then he crossed back over the threshold to take his leave.
We were in an office, decorated much like the rest of the house, but with two chairs before a large ornate desk. There were no pictures on the desk or the walls, nothing that would hint at the personal life of this woman to whom we were expected to divulge the intimate details of our life.
Shaw walked over to the small couch in the center of the room, turning with his brow lifted in expectation for me to follow. I had no idea what we’d gotten ourselves into, but at this point, it was a little too late to back out.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, joining him. “I hope she doesn’t keep us waiting long.”
“Ah, but anticipation is the catalyst of everything worth waiting for, darling,” a silky-smooth, accented voice said from the doorway.
CHAPTER 7
Cassidy
I jumped, startled by the new presence I hadn’t heard approaching. With my pulse still racing, I turned in my chair just in time to see the door close as the woman who’d joined us tilted the corner of her mouth up into a sultry smile.
Standing at nearly six feet tall, she was dressed in a black leather pantsuit that hugged her generous curves so tightly it must have taken her hours to get into it. Creamy skin covered a regal neck and collarbone, while the deep cut of her jacket boasted a plentiful bosom. I’d wager she wasn’t wearing anything more than a matching bra under that suit, if that. Black peep-toe heels of no less than five inches were on her feet, accounting for her height, with bold red nail polish adorning her toes, which complemented her fingernails. Platinum blond hair was stacked in a complicated up-do of curls, braids, and more curls, each strand threatening to fall lose from the weight of it, yet it looked carefully controlled. Much like her demeanor.
She crossed the room to the wingback chair at my right, her walk something like a Pied Piper for grown men that commanded a following.
“My name is Dr. Minkov, but considering the personal topic we’ll be discussing, in depth,” she said with a not-so-subtle meaning as she took a seat, “I prefer to be as informal as possible. So please, call me Katya. And you are?”
“You don’t know who you scheduled a meeting with?” Shaw wasn’t nearly as tongue-tied as I’d become in this woman’s presence.
“I find that an introduction of one’s self can be an icebreaker of sorts. Like an alcoholic finally breaking his silence and deciding to discuss a problem he hasn’t seen as a problem until he says it out loud.”
Shaw set his shoulders. “We’re not alcoholics. Or sexaholics, for that matter.” He’d gone from more relaxed than I’d seen him in a long time to defensive again.
“Ah, but there is a problem, is there not?”
“I’m Cassidy,” I told her, hoping to ease the mounting tension.
Katya leaned forward, the movement sending a waft of her perfume to caress my senses. I’d had no idea forbidden was a scent, but she was wearing it as if it were a designer fragrance of her own making. I was still caught in the spell of it when I registered her hand on my knee and the flagrant squeeze that followed before she looked directly at me and said, “I look forward to becoming very intimate with you, Cassidy. You’ve pleased me well already.”
I swallowed hard, clearly affected by her words. This woman had to have been a dominatrix in her off time because, though I didn’t know how I’d pleased her, I found I was eager to do it again.
Katya’s eyes were stunning. Catlike in color—golden brown with a jade green burst that fanned out into a darker outer ring—and framed by dramatic lashes and dark eyebrows with a definitively perfect arch. Her lips were lush, stained the same color red as her fingernails, so plump one bite promised to yield the sweetest juice. I nibbled my own lip, not realizing it until Katya’s gaze went to my mouth and she smiled before pulling my imprisoned lip free with her thumb.
“I’m Shaw.”
I sobered at the sound of Shaw’s voice, having forgotten for a moment that he was in the room. No idea what had come over me. I wasn’t into women, but Katya exuded sex. Male, female, it didn’t matter.
Katya turned her attention to Shaw, but it was a distinctly different sort of attention. No hands-on greeting like I’d just received. And he seemed unaffected by her obvious charms. In fact, I think I detected a low growl of warning from him. Was he jealous of a woman?
“Shaw.” She inclined her head in acknowledgment before she sat back, her posture perfect, chest proud, legs crossed, and arms regal on the armrests of the chair. “Before we continue, I must first determine whether the two of you can benefit from the sort of coaching I provide. I’m quite unorthodox in my methods, and, as such, I need to be sure you qualify for my services.”
“You’re interviewing us?” Shaw asked, surprised by the role reversal.
“Yes.” Her answer was simple, confident. “What do you hope to accomplish during our sessions?”
My palms had begun to sweat. Why was I suddenly so nervous? “I’m not really sure what to expect from our time with you.”
“Sex,” she said, matter-of-factly. Bulgarian. Her accent was definitely Bulgarian, and it carried an alluring undertone of sensuality. “My purpose is to help coax that spark you once had back into a raging inferno. I want you to burn for each other, for your desire to devour the very oxygen in the air until you’re breathing fire into your lungs, pumping molten lava through your veins, and feeling the threat of self-combustion with your every orgasm.”
“Sounds…dangerous.” Judging by Shaw’s mocking tone, he was not impressed.
But I was. “I think it sounds exciting.”
Katya’s grin was mischievous. “Danger and excitement should be the foundation of every sexual encounter. If your heart isn’t racing, your pulse pounding, how else will you know you’re alive?”
As if commanded by her words, my body reacted in the same manner she’d described, and I understood what she meant about feeling alive. I’d felt the same way when Shaw and I had first started our clandestine relationship, back when being trapped in an elevator or the back of a limousine or the bathroom on a private jet meant we were about to embark upon a sexual adventure like none I’d ever known before him.
“When do we start?” I sat forward with unabashed eagerness.
Katya gave me another one of those approving grins. “You are willing. I like it. But when one learns to swim, he or she does not simply jump into the deepest part of the sea. You must first get your feet wet on the beach, feel the sand caress your toes as the surf beckons you forward, and then wade into the shallow water until you’ve become accustomed to the pull of the ocean and learn to simply let go and allow it to set you adrift.”
How had she managed to make swimming so devastatingly sexy? As the daughter of a fisherman, practically born and raised on the ocean, I could appreciate the analogy.
“We already know how to swim,” Shaw interjected. “What you’re describing sounds an awful lot like you want us to get lost at sea.”
“Are you not already lost? Is that not why you are sitting here with me at this moment, seeking my help?” Point well made. “Splashing around in the water will only make waves and create a lot of noise, an invitation for a predator to have a sampling of your dinghy if you are not careful.” Katya grinned at her own double entendre. So did I.
“Consider me a lifeguard, Shaw,” Katya told him. She certainly had the whole Baywatch look down. “My guidance and the methods I use will only act as a flotation device until your lessons are complete. Are you agreeable to that, or are you such a master of the sea that you do not need my help?”
I turned toward Shaw, placing my hand high on his thigh and giving it a squeeze. “I want to feel the pull of the ocean.” Making a show of letting
my eyes rake over his body to settle on his crotch, I licked my bottom lip and then pulled it between my teeth. “Please?”
He crooked a finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to his. Startling blue eyes stared back at me, a measure of lust present there that I hadn’t seen in quite some time. When the pad of his thumb swept over my lip, I pressed a kiss to it. And there went that sexy half grin/half smirk of his that made me weak in the knees. “You have no idea what it does to me to hear you beg.”
Oh, I had an idea, all right. Even though I was sure it had pained him to do so, I remembered a time when he’d kept his cock away from me when I’d wanted it in my mouth so bad I couldn’t stand it. Shaw had only given me my way after I’d begged and pleaded on my knees.
Dear God, we hadn’t even begun our session yet, and I was already aching for a release. Maybe I’d take another from him once we returned home tonight.
“She will be doing a great deal of begging…if I decide the three of us are a good fit.” Katya’s reminder that she hadn’t yet agreed to take us on as clients was like a douse of cold water to the smoldering hot coals Shaw had just stoked.
Keeping my hand right where it was on Shaw’s thigh, I shifted to face her. “When will you know?”
“Before you leave here this evening.” Katya stood, doing the Pied Piper thing again as she went to her desk and took a seat. She opened the folder that sat atop the cherry-red leather blotter and picked up a pen. “Let’s get to it, shall we? I’m going to ask some personal questions of the both of you to help me get an idea of where the issue may lie and whether I can help you. And if you feel these questions are too personal”—she gave Shaw a pointed look—“we will not be a good fit as things are going to become much, much more personal than that, I assure you.”