The Bottom Line (11 page)

“You two go and catch up,” his mother said. “I’ll get Connor a beer and start cooking the steaks.”

Connor accepted a beer and followed Frank to the lounge. He sat then bound to his feet. He found himself pacing, unable to settle. Belatedly, he became aware of Frank studying him in a quizzical manner.

“Problem?”

With his round glasses frames, Frank reminded him of an owl. A wise old owl.

“Yeah. I’m not sure how to say this so I’m going to lay it out fast before I die of embarrassment.” Connor paced another lap of the lounge, the movement helping him to concentrate. “I’ve met a woman, someone I really like and want a future with. She wants me to spank her as part of our lovemaking, and I’m worried I’ll hurt her. I…I…what if I take after my father?”

“Connor,” his mother said from the doorway. “Son, you’re not like Larry. You have the most even temper I’ve known. I’ve never seen a hint of Larry’s violence in you.
Never
.”

Frank smiled a gentle smile, the one that told Connor how much he loved both his mother and him. The same smile he’d always showered them with. “At least you stopped his pacing. I thought I’d have to spring for new carpet for the lounge because he was wearing a track.”

“Mum, I’m sorry you had to hear. I know you don’t like talking about him.”

“Connor.” His mother looked as if she might cry.

Hell
. Connor glanced at Frank and wished he hadn’t come to visit his parents. He took a couple of steps toward the door.

“Don’t you dare leave.”

Connor froze.

Frank chuckled. “Take a seat, son. You’re not going anywhere until we talk about this.”

“I want to hear about this woman who has you tied in knots,” his mother said. “Besides, it’s nasty out there. Do you want me to worry about you driving home in the middle of a storm?”

He caved, sinking into the nearest chair. What had he expected? That he could drop his bombshell and escape without taking return fire?

“Dinner won’t be long,” his mother said.

“Do you need any help?” Frank asked.

“I can cope with cooking a few steaks,” she said. “You stay with Connor. Give him the talk.” She winked and the adoring look that passed between them made Connor feel like a voyeur.

“Have you talked to her about what you’re feeling?” Frank asked, getting straight to business.

Connor grunted, the sound containing severe irritation. “I’ve started to talk a million times but it’s…I keep wimping out.”

“I know it’s not easy, son, but the main thing is communication.” His eyes sharpened. “How do you know she wants you to spank her if you haven’t discussed the matter?”

Connor felt his cheeks heat, aware his reply wouldn’t show him in a good light. “She has a blog where she discusses spanking. One of our friends told me, so I’ve been reading it.”

“And she doesn’t know.” Frank picked up his wine glass and took a sip, his manner slow and purposeful. Thinking-mode, Connor realized, remembering Frank looking the same way on numerous other occasions while he was growing up.

“She doesn’t know I read her blog.”

“Connor Grey,” his mother said, barging into the room. “I can’t believe you’ve been spying on this poor girl.”

“It must run in the family,” Frank said in a mild voice. “Gabby, I thought you were cooking the steaks.”

His mother ignored Frank’s quiet reprimand to focus on him. “Sweetheart, there’s a big difference between abuse and consensual loving.”

A vision swept his mind—one he’d rather not have. “Mum, I don’t want to talk about sex. Frank, what do you think about those All Blacks? Man, they choked in their last game against the Wallabies.”

His mother wrinkled her nose. “I do know about sex.”

“Nah, you found me in a cabbage patch,” Connor said. “How do you think the All Blacks will go against the Springboks?”

“I should have told the stork to take you right back and bring me a little girl. I’m sure she wouldn’t resort to underhand behavior. Sweetheart, you need to talk to her, tell her what’s on your mind and why you’re having a problem with the idea. If everything is in the open, you’ll find your relationship much easier. When can we meet her?”

“It’s early days,” Frank said, coming to his rescue. “Give Connor a chance. I’m sure he’ll bring his friend to visit when he’s ready.”

His mother nodded. “Personally, I think the All Blacks will give the Springboks a whopping and send them back to South Africa with their tails between their legs. We’ll win the rugby match by at least twenty points. I’d place good money on it.”

Connor grinned. “How much do you want to bet?”

“Twenty,” his mother shot back. “And a promise you’ll bring your young lady to visit.”

Connor’s grin faded as he acknowledged the problems lying between him and a future with Maggie. Lies. Lots of lies. A good man would have left well alone, but Connor admitted the truth to himself. He wouldn’t have done a thing differently. He and Maggie were good together. They could have a future. All he had to do was prove it to her.

Chapter Eight

“A speed dating event,” Connor said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

Susan tossed her head. “You don’t have to go. Guys have an easier time meeting women to date,” she added. “But quite frankly, I need all the help I can get. I want to find a man and settle down. I want to have children, and I’m running out of time.”

They all stared at her, and she met their looks with one of quiet determination.

Maggie hadn’t realized Susan wanted children so bad. She risked a quick glance at Connor and found him studying her.

“I hope this maternal cluckiness isn’t catchy,” Julia said into the distinct uneasiness that had overtaken them after Susan’s outburst.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Susan said, tossing her head. “Besides, my mother is driving me nuts. All my sisters are married. She’s convinced my ovaries will wither, and I’ll die an old spinster.”

“I hope you told her to butt out,” Julia said.

Susan let out a loud sigh. “She means well. And I do want to get married.”

“That doesn’t mean you should settle for second best,” Christina said. “Mr. Right doesn’t always come along straight away.”

“Look, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” Susan forced a smile.

“We don’t expect you to apologize,” Maggie said. “You can’t help how you feel.”

“The speed dating was a suggestion. I’m going and thought it might be fun if we all went.”

Maggie felt bad for Susan. Wanting security and a child wasn’t so different from wanting to find a man who would spank her. Deep down she wanted the same things Susan did: security with a man who loved her.

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “It sounds like fun.”

Connor looked as if he might argue, and Maggie glared at him.

“I’m in,” Julia said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “It will make a change from drinks at the pub.”

“Sign me up too,” Connor said.

“Really?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah, really. Susan is my friend and I want to support her.” Connor’s voice held a trace of defensiveness. “When is it?”

“Are you trying to weasel out of it?” Maggie asked in suspicion.

“No, it’s my mother’s birthday coming up. If it clashes with the speed dating, I’ll have to pass.”

It was the first Maggie had heard of his mother’s birthday. She blinked against a sudden surge of moisture to her eyes. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed rapidly to dispel the sensation. Despite constantly reminding herself she and Connor were casual lovers, she couldn’t stop the possessive thoughts filling her mind. She wasn’t even looking for another lover. Connor had spoiled her, and every other man came up lacking in comparison.

She wanted to do normal couple things. All the sneaking around had started to get old.

“It’s next week. Thursday night at eight,” Susan said.

Christina checked her PDA. “Works for me.”

“My mother’s birthday is on Saturday,” Connor said.

“What about rugby practice?” Maggie asked.

“We have a bye this weekend.” Connor picked up his beer and took a sip. “There’s no training this week.”

Maggie crossed her legs. “I’m free.” She noticed Connor watched the move, his gaze lingering on the expanse of thigh displayed by her new skirt. Connor hadn’t been the only one paying attention. She received requests for dates from two of the lawyers at the firm next to them. Greg also continued to ask her out, despite her firm negative answers.

Maggie stood. “I’m going to head home. I’m tired. Someone decided I needed to change my workout. If anyone tells you to take up running to vary an exercise routine, run far and fast in the opposite direction. My thighs are killing me.”

Connor smirked. “Poor baby.”

The other women grinned.

“You wouldn’t catch me running,” Julia said.

“You don’t have to battle weight like I do. I just need to think about a dark, moist and decadent chocolate brownie and weight sticks to my thighs and butt.” Maggie sniffed at their derisive laughter. “I’m going home to soak in the bath.”

“I’m going too,” Connor said, standing. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Night,” Julia said, lifting her right hand in a casual wave. “Anyone for another drink? We could split a bottle of wine.”

“Sounds good to me,” Christina said. “I’ll buy. I’ve taken on two makeover clients this week. Retirement from Barker & Johnson is looking better every day.”

“Congratulations, Christina. I’ll see you at rugby tomorrow.” With a quick wave Maggie followed Connor from the crowded bar.

Outside, he took her arm, holding her protectively against his side to help combat the swirl of icy wind.

“Come home with me,” he said.

“I don’t know,” Maggie said, fighting temptation. “We have work tomorrow and I really am sore after running.” She also wanted to check her blog for comments. So far, most of her visitors had said the same thing. She needed to talk to her partner. Easier said than done. The last thing she wanted to do was scare Connor away. Besides, what happened if he met someone else and their
friends with benefits
deal ended? What would happen to her then?

“Doctor Connor to the rescue. I know just the thing to fix sore muscles.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to his SUV. Maggie fought her conscience for about two seconds before meekly allowing him to seat her in the passenger seat. She watched his face when he jogged around the front of the vehicle. As usual, he was smiling, his dark looks making her heart clench with longing. She wished Susan hadn’t brought up babies. She’d love to have children. One day. A sigh escaped and she leaned her head back against the headrest, letting her eyes close. She hadn’t lied when she’d said her body throbbed in one big ache. This running lark was killing her. She needed her head read. How had she ever thought running was a good idea?

Connor started the SUV and Maggie let herself drift.

“Wake up, babe. We’re at my apartment.”

“Sorry. I must have fallen asleep.” Self-consciously, she stretched and fumbled for the seatbelt. “I didn’t snore, did I?”

“Yeah, you did. The cutest little sound.”

“You’re making that up.”

“You’ll never know, will you?” Connor brushed the tip of her nose with his finger. “Come on. We’ll get you in the shower before you fall asleep again.”

Maggie climbed out the vehicle, grimacing and mumbling under her breath about running and people who should know better. “I wanted a bath. Don’t you have a bath?”

“I never said I had a bath,” Connor corrected. “I said I have something better. Come on, limpy-gimpy. Let’s get you inside.”

“If you think you’re gonna get lucky tonight, you’d better rethink your plans,” Maggie snapped.
Damn, it hurt to walk
. She was never going to run again. Only stupid people ran. Fools and idiots.

“I’m not a complete moron.” Connor’s face darkened, and she hurriedly looked away, biting her bottom lip in consternation. Even her conscience was working against her, trying to do the right thing and push him away.

Without another word he led her into his apartment. His roommates weren’t home, although Maggie smelled curry spices and noticed a basketball and a sweatshirt tossed over the back of a chair. At least one of his roommates had been here recently.

Connor chucked his keys on the countertop and shunted her down the passage to the small bathroom. Reaching in, he flipped on the tap and waited until the water ran hot.

“Get in and warm up,” he said, leaving her alone.

Maggie shrugged out of her clothes, wincing and groaning when she lifted her legs to remove her pantyhose. Horrid things. Maybe she’d try stockings—some of those thigh-high ones that didn’t require a garter belt. Leaving her clothes in a heap on the floor, she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. For long moments, she stood there, soaking in the heat.

With a sigh, she reached for the soap and cleansed her body, driving out the last of the chill caused by the winter winds that had swirled across the city of Auckland today.

“All done?” Connor asked.

Maggie turned off the shower and stepped out, shivering when the cold air hit her wet skin.

“Feel better?”

“Not really.” Maggie wished she’d followed her instincts and gone home.

Connor approached her with a large blue towel and started to dry her briskly.

“I can do it,” she protested, trying to grab the towel.

“Of course you can,” he said, resisting. “But I want to do it for you.”

Once he’d dried her, he led her to his bedroom. While she’d been in the shower, he’d closed the curtains and drawn back the blankets on the bed. Only one bedside lamp lit the room, shadows playing across walls when they entered.

“Lie face down on the bed,” he said, pulling the towel away from her body.

“Why?” A sharp note entered her voice as she grabbed for the towel. Fatigue weighed her down, and once again, she kicked herself for letting him bring her here.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I have some massage oil to help with your sore muscles. I’m going to rub it on for you. That’s all.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said, slivers of guilt nipping at her. She’d sounded distinctly bitchy.
Way to go, Maggie. Drive him away. That will make you happy and appease your guilty conscience at the same time
.

She stretched out on her back in the middle of the bed. “The fronts of my legs are really bad. Could you do them first?” Thank goodness for the scanty light. Although he’d seen her naked, she felt vulnerable in an unclothed state. She snorted quietly. And wasn’t that great? Imagine a woman who wanted her ass smacked and yet she didn’t want to show her boyfriend her naked butt. A few contradictions there, that was for sure.

To her relief, Connor smiled, unperturbed by her grumpiness.

He reached for a small glass bottle. “Your wish is my command.” Unscrewing the cap of the bottle, he poured some of the contents into his palm before setting it aside. He rubbed his palms together before joining her on the bed.

Lavender, sandalwood and an herby scent she couldn’t indentify filled the room.

“It might be a little cold at first,” he warned, straddling her legs.

She winced at his first touch, but the oil quickly warmed as he rubbed it on her right thigh. His fingers glided smoothly over tense muscles, rubbing with gradually increasing pressure, a combination of kneading and feathering strokes that felt good after the initial pain. He moved up and down her legs and gradually, Maggie relaxed, letting her eyes close to savor his magic touch.

“I’m going to stop to get some more oil,” he said, his voice husky.

“Okay.” He could do anything he liked if only he continued touching her with those magic fingers.

The mattress shifted when he moved, depressing again when he returned. He massaged her calves and feet before moving up her legs again. She expected him to tell her to turn over but he started to massage the rest of her body, moving slightly and parting her legs. His fingers stroked across her inner thighs and slipped closer to her labia, skimming near enough for the massage to take a distinct turning into sexual territory.

Then he moved, his hands gliding across her hips, her waist. Taking his time he worked up her body. Although disappointed in the direction of his massage, she wasn’t about to tell him to stop when it felt so good. Already her sore muscles were a dim memory. Maggie breathed slowly, enjoying the rich tang of the massage oil and the soft sound of Connor’s steady breathing.

He stopped to get more oil and worked it into her breasts. He circled them, gradually working closer and closer to her nipples. With a finger and thumb, he stroked them, tugging slightly in a manner that sent a bungee cord of pleasure to her pussy.

“Does that feel good?”

“Really good,” she purred.

Gradually, he released the pleasure and worked upward, stroking her shoulders and rubbing in the oil until she felt like a puddle and pleasure skimmed her body along with his touch.

“Turn over for me, Maggie.”

Her eyes flew open.

“May as well do the job properly, babe.”

She turned over, grinning into the pillows, despite a sliver of unease. Maybe Connor would get lucky tonight. Need pulsed through her. Although her muscles felt loose and limber, other parts of her were decidedly tense. When he straddled her body again, she felt the heavy weight of his erection. Her grin widened. Looked like they would both enjoy themselves tonight.

Connor started with her shoulders, nimble fingers rubbing, stroking and feathering her flesh until her mind wandered in blissful relaxation. Gradually he moved down her body, his talented hands working closer to her butt in all its naked glory. What would he do if she asked him to give her a swat or two?

Her breath caught, arousal unfurling inside as her imagination took flight. She chewed her bottom lip, trying not to tense up and undo his good work.

Connor stroked her shoulders, letting his thumbs press into her muscles, his fingers glided over her smooth flesh. He liked touching her like this. Having the freedom to touch without restraint or worrying about anyone else noticing.

His hands drifted downward, lightening his touch when he skimmed over her lower back working her upper glutes. Her backside was curvy. Rounded. Uncharitable people might call it plump, but he liked the way Maggie looked. He pressed his fingers into the muscles, his mind drifting to spanking. Maybe he could give her an experimental swat or two at the end of the massage.

The last time he’d given her a swat had made for great sex. Hot sex. But no matter how much he rationalized spanking in his mind, told himself it was something she wanted, he hesitated. He couldn’t reconcile the idea of pain and sex—good sex—together.

Yeah, he’d read Maggie’s blog posts, he’d done a little research on the Internet. Hell, he’d even swallowed his embarrassment and talked to his mother and Frank. It might have been easier if he could have talked to Maggie about spanking, but he couldn’t tell her he knew about the blog and her inner desires when Julia had sworn him to secrecy.

And, as far as he knew, Maggie hadn’t actually experienced spanking in person. Thinking about doing and actually doing it were two different things. What would happen if he spanked her and she hated it? What would happen if their relationship changed because of the spanking?