Spanked (3 page)

As he looked down at me, his eyes boring into mine and drowning me into an abyss so deep I was just overwhelmed, I found myself wondering if I had made the right decision.

But there was no turning back now.

I had to know.

"Yes, I'm going to be the one bringing Lisa over every week," Michael told me when I finally found my tongue and asked him if he was the one going to be bringing his niece over all the time.

"Why do you ask?" He wanted to know.

"Oh," I said, cursing myself out for not thinking my plan through and through. Now here he was wanting to know why I was grilling him.

"I just had a few questions for her parents...some payment arrangements," I stumbled, making stuff up as I went along.

His eyebrows raised a little.

"Well, my sister,” he said, motioning with his hands, “Lisa’s mother, is out of town on business at the moment and I don't know if she told you this but her husband's serving in the military, so I'm Lisa’s only available guardian for now."

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out a wallet.

"How much are we talking about?"

Shit.

I'd already been paid, of course. But he didn't know that I was just fishing for information so that I could keep
him
out of my life and the whirlpool of emotions he was causing to swirl inside me.

How could he?

Well, whether he knew it or not, I aimed to keep him out of my life.  

I smiled and out of nowhere found myself saying, "My mistake. I misspoke. When I said
"payment arrangements"
I was referring to a bonus program that we have here," I smiled and continued speaking as he gave me a floundered look. "I recently started a program for clients who pay early and on time. They get an extra week of class, free."

And I wanted to put a hole in my head as soon as I said that.

What program?

I certainly didn't have any program like that running.

Michael flashed me a smile.

"So you've already been paid and just wanted to extend an invitation to her mother for an extra free week of dance instruction?" He said.

Not trusting myself to speak in case I came up with some more dumb stuff, I just nodded.

He extended his hand out again. I didn't want to shake hands with him, but I had to.

A surge of electricity flowed between us as I put my hand in his big paw and he shook.

"Thank you very much for that generous offer," he said in that deep baritone. "I'll make sure to bring her for that extra week as well."

Fuuuuck!

This was not good.

So not good.

Not only did I fail in keeping Mr. Gorgeous-fuck-my-emotions-up out of my life, but had actually extended his stay in my life by an extra week!

Way to go, Katie D. Hazel.

One thing was clear. I had to get a handle on my emotions. There was no if's and but's about it.

Michael was going to be in my life for the next six weeks and I had better learn how to deal with it. All these emotions I was feeling now had to be contained. I couldn't afford to let him know how much he was affecting me.

I knew that that was easier said than done. I was still reeling from the fact that he was going to be there, in my dance studio, every week.

There to look at.

There to wonder what he was thinking every time he looked at me with those soul-searching eyes.

There to affect me with that deep, baritone, core-vibrating voice.

There to kill me with that sexy-ass smelling cologne of his.

So now that I knew what the deal was, I had to decide between totally ignoring him every time he was in my studio, just acting as if he was non-existent or maybe dressing so scantily that he'd feel uncomfortable and decide not to show up.

Neither of those choices sounded particularly good or even practical to me. Ignoring the man was basically impossible.

He had a magnetic presence about him that made men, women and kids all want to talk to him. And besides, there was some stuff━dance instruction wise━that I would need to communicate with him about, seeing that he was currently the legal guardian of my client. Telling a six year old girl that stuff just wouldn't cut it.

As for the other option: showing up scantily clad to work so that he could stop coming? That was a non-starter if ever there was one.

Mainly because my lack of a love life made sure that my closet had nothing wild in it. Certainly nothing that would make a man compare me to a Victoria’s Secret model or anything like that.

Not to mention that I had a six year old client who would wonder what the heck was wrong with this old hag.

No way I was dressing crazy.

The choice was clear in my mind:
“TOTAL IGNORATION”
, I called it. I'd been turning down men all my life.

Why should this guy be any different?

I felt immediately relieved after making that decision. Deep inside me, I knew that the hardest part was going to be the follow through.

Actually seeing Michael walk into my studio and not wanting to dash over to him and then running my fingers through his hair.

But come on, he was just a guy, right? How hard could it be ignoring a guy? I didn’t care. It could be done and it will be done, I vowed to myself. Even if he attracted people to him like shit attracted flies.

I don't want you.

I don't want you.

I don't want you.

That had been my mantra since deciding to ignore Michael and so far, it had worked like a charm. I wanted to keep it that way, please.

Six weeks literally flew by without a single incident happening between me and Mr. Gorgeous. This is because he had, for the most part, totally put my moves back on me.

TOTAL IGNORATION?

Ha! That was a joke!

It was as if he'd read my mind when I came up with that concept.
He
was the one who totally ignored me for the entire six weeks his niece was there.

Hardly looked in my direction. Even when I’d cracked what I thought were funny jokes during instruction every now and then.

And now here we were, six weeks later.

The last dance class his niece would be attending.

Other than that, it had been an uneventful six weeks.

And for some reason, I felt shitty.

Even though my objective of not wanting Michael had worked some, albeit in reverse, I felt kind of down and I couldn't quite figure out why.

I mean, I'd just had my period last week so that meant I wasn't pregnant from my incident with Jim that fateful weekend and I had also gone in for bloodwork. The results had been: No STD's. That had been a relief!

Also business had picked up a little and I had acquired a bunch of new clients for my business.

So despite all the good news, why was I feeling down?

My objective had worked, or had it?

One half of my inner self━the good half━assured me that I'd taken the correct course. That ignoring the handsome hunk who I saw once every week was the best thing that I could do for myself, but the other half was also tugging furiously at my heart.

"What's wrong with you?" Was the question that that other rebellious half asked of me every time I thought about Michael.

"Why are you trying to ignore, push away something that you know is good for you?"

And the good, sane half would respond, "Because I have no time to mess around with feelings."

And usually the good side always won.

But today, the last day that I might ever get to see Michael again, today the rebellious half was tugging at my heartstrings harder than normal.

"You prepared to lose him?" It asked. "Are you going to wait another thirty years for another perfect man to walk in to your life?"

The good side roared right back, "Don’t listen to that nonsense! There is plenty of time and a lot of men in this world. This man is nothing but trouble."

Jeez!

Why did I have to get caught in this battle of wills?

After the class was over, Michael walked over to me. His niece was changing clothes.

"Oh, no! Here he comes!" My mind screamed at me.

I tried my best to stay calm. Act as if I didn't want to jump in his arms and cuddle up with him or even run straight the other way and through the wall. Depending on which half of my being I was inclined to listen to.

"Well, I want to thank you for all your wonderful work with Lisa," Michael said. "You've done an outstanding job and she mentions everyday when we get home how much she enjoys coming here."

I smiled, "Not a problem," I said. "I did enjoy working with her. She was a real gem."

And then there was an awkward silence as he looked me up and down. The most attention he'd given me in six weeks.

I held out my hand, "So...it was nice meeting you," I said.

He looked at my hand with disdain. As if I had just been to the bathroom and hadn't washed my hands after.

He pushed it away and instead threw a bear hug around me.

At that moment in time, the world stopped turning for me.

I literally melted in his arms.

All the resistance I had tried to put around myself when it came to him flew out through the window at that particular moment. I was putty in his hands and he could do nothing wrong as far as I was concerned.

I could feel his heartbeat as my head lay for a brief moment on his broad chest.

And it was a good thing he was holding me too, because by now, my legs were pure jelly, couldn’t hold up a glass of milk even if I wanted to.

I was down for the count and suddenly a heavy cloud loomed over me.

I realized with a thud that I’d failed at my objective of ignoring him.

And failed spectacularly at that.

No bueno.

Now what the heck was going to happen next?

I didn't have to wonder what was going to happen next for long. While still holding me captive in his strong arms, Michael snapped his head back and drilled me down with those captive eyes.

I felt as if I was in a deep hole and I couldn’t get out as I lost myself in those blue eyes.

And why was he still holding me?

Did he not know what he was doing to me?

Did he not have any idea?

I was still reeling from how things had turned on their head so fast. From him going to not showing an iota of interest during the six weeks that he’d brought his niece to my dance class to him holding me in his arms like his most prized possession at the end of it all.

What did it even mean?

Did he like me?

And if he did, in what way did he like me? Was it a friendly I'd-bring-my-own-kid-to-your-dance-school-if-I-had-one kind of way?

Or was it I-wanna-kiss-those-lips-off-of-you-and-hold-you-tight-in-my-arms kinda way?

I was confused and I didn't know what to do.

I knew one thing though.

I would rather die than ask him how
he
felt.

While still enjoying the comfort of his cozy arms and not wanting to let go, he retracted one arm from around me and reached down into his pants pocket.

His hand came back up holding a black felt-tip pen.

He must have seen the puzzled look on my face because he let go of me then but continued to hold my gaze, never flinching his eyes one bit. I don't know why, but I found that to be more captive than even being physically locked onto him.

Before I could summon enough willpower to tear myself away from that soul-gripping gaze, he reached over and grabbed my hand, turned it over and wrote something on the palm of my hand. I didn't know what it was because I was still travelling in planet blue eyes and I hadn't been able to come back down to earth. Didn’t want to either.

Then just like that, he broke the gaze, turned around and walked away.

Out of the room and out of my life.

I was struck by the enormity of what had just happened. For the first time in my life, I felt as if I had actually connected with somebody in a very profound way.

It felt as if we could have just communicated for hours on end without actually uttering a single word. Our eyes doing all the talking that was needed just by themselves.

My heart felt gashed seeing him walk away, as if somebody had plunged a long blade in it then ruthlessly jerked it out.

I leaned back against the wall just so I could have something to hold onto while I tried to regain my senses.

As my mind ran through every single millisecond of our last moment, I suddenly remembered something about that last deep moment.