His Canvas [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Read online

  Mallory’s gaze dropped to the floor. He took the barely perceptible movement of her head as a negatory.

  Okay, so my way to her is through the friend.

  He wasn’t an idiot.

  “Are you two coming back here tonight for the play session?” he asked.

  Chelbie’s grin broadened. “Oh, absolutely. Can’t wait.”

  “Good. Why don’t you two come to dinner with us, and while we’re eating, we can talk about it and decide what you’d like to try?”

  Mallory looked up at him, her eyes as wide as dessert plates before her gaze dropped to the floor again.

  Chelbie yanked Mallory forward so she stood next to her. “Thank you! We’d love to.”

  “It’s at Sigalo’s. My treat,” he added before Mallory could object. “And it won’t be just the three of us. There will probably be about ten of us or so. If that’s all right?”

  “That sounds mahhhvelous,” Chelbie said, pumping Mallory’s arm as if trying to work a recalcitrant ventriloquist dummy. “And I know where that is, too. What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “Egggcellent,” Chelbie said. He couldn’t decide if she was normally that upbeat and gregarious, or putting on a show to try to get her obviously mortified friend to smile.

  He extended his hand to Mallory, his gaze focused solely on her, mentally willing her to look up at him again. “I’d be honored to pop your rope cherry,” he joked, hoping she took it in the playful way he’d meant it.

  “Mal,” Chelbie said. “This is where you take his hand and shake with him, babe.”

  Mallory slowly raised her head just enough that she could cover the rest of the distance by glancing up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. Her grip felt cool and the slightest bit trembly in his.

  “Thank you,” she quietly said.

  * * * *

  Mallory hoped she didn’t puke all over the guy’s sneakers.

  I. Am. Going. To. Fucking. Kill. Her.

  She knew it. She just knew Chelbie wouldn’t leave it alone.

  Kel didn’t release her hand, apparently waiting for something. When she forced herself to look up at him again, he said, “I mean it. If I’d known you were interested in being tied, I would have approached you a long time ago.”

  She didn’t know if he was humoring her or not, then decided she didn’t want to know. At least for tonight, it would seem, she might get to have one damn good thing happen.

  “I know I’m not exactly your type,” she said before thinking about it.

  Chelbie’s fingers painfully dug into her left wrist, but Kel still didn’t let go of her right hand.

  “What do you think my ‘type’ is?” he asked, no trace of sarcasm in his tone.

  She took a deep breath and, low enough others around them couldn’t hear, she said, “I know you usually tie skinny girls.”

  Now his grip grew a little firmer. “My type,” he said, “is anyone willing to be tied, whom I can do so safely. Do you have any issues, like a back injury, that would prevent me from tying you in any particular way?”

  She shook her head. “I’m just, you know, fat.”

  She’d glanced away but he still didn’t release her hand. He seemed to be waiting for her to look up at him again.

  She finally did. Something about the intensity of his brown gaze pierced right through her. “I see you as a beautiful, blank canvas that I can’t wait to take control of.”

  Her mouth went dry. Chelbie leaned in and sotto voce said, “If you don’t let him tie you tonight, I will beat you myself in the bad way for committing acts of terminal stupidity.”

  Kel smiled, brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it. A torrent of emotions rushed through her. “We’ll talk in detail over dinner,” he said, “so that when we return tonight, we won’t have to waste our time with that. We can get right to the fun part.” One eyebrow deliciously arched at her.

  Her clit throbbed in response, shocking her. She knew he was just being nice, trying to make her feel better, but her body didn’t care about that.

  Her body only cared about how sexy he’d just become to her.

  Come on, brain. Take control of this. Last thing I need is unrequited love to fuck up what little normalcy I already have.

  “Okay,” she said, wanting Chelbie to loosen her death grip on her left hand so the blood flow would return to her fingers. “I’d like that.”

  Only then did he release her right hand after one final, gentle squeeze. “Good. Because I know I’m looking forward to it. And, for future reference, any time you want to be tied, I hope you’ll ask me first. Because I’ll never say no to you.”

  Chelbie leaned in again and whispered in her ear. “Hah. So there.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Explain to me why I shouldn’t kill you,” Mallory grumbled when they were in the car and on their way to Chelbie’s house.

  Her friend settled back in the seat, wearing a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat to shame. “Because you looove me. And I just got you a confirmed rigging session with a really hot guy. Oh, and farking dinner, thank you very much. You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  Impossibly, Chelbie’s grin widened. “Anytime. What’s a bestie for if not to shove you off the high dive?”

  Back at Chelbie’s, they both grabbed showers and started getting ready. As it grew closer to time for them to leave, Mallory tried to rein in the frustration and excitement that warred within her. In her hurry to find her makeup, she dumped her purse out on Chelbie’s bed.

  Her friend reached out and plucked the warning citation, the car registration, insurance card, and Mallory’s license from the pile. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, that’s from the cop pulling me over. I meant to put the registration and insurance card back in the glove box. Don’t let me forget to do that, please.”

  Chelbie frowned as she studied the items. “It says the owner of your car is the Mallory Ann Weaver Trust.” Chelbie looked up at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Mallory shrugged. “I don’t know.” She retrieved her license from Chelbie and tucked it back into her wallet. “When he bought me the car, that’s what he had it put under. I figured it probably had something to do with my trust.” The Honda Civic had been four years old when he’d bought it for her when she turned seventeen, but it had low miles and was in excellent condition.

  One of the few times she could count that he’d taken the initiative and purchased something for her without her having to ask for it.

  “Did you ever find out how much is left in the trust account?”

  “No. He won’t discuss it with me.”

  Chelbie cocked her head, looking a little like a puzzled terrier. “Don’t you think that’s just a little bit strange? Why the hell won’t you let me talk to my parents about getting you an attorney? I’m sure there’s something really wrong going on here.”

  “It’s supposed to be some standard thing people do all the time. Reduces liability. Especially for cars. I just haven’t been in the mood to fight him on it lately. We fight enough as it is.”

  “Well, does your uncle have his own trust?”

  “I—” She snapped her mouth shut on that answer. “I don’t know. I figured he probably does.”

  “Didn’t you mention something happened a few years ago when your grandfather died?”

  Her uncle hadn’t been close to his father at all, meaning she’d had very little chance to get to know him. Her uncle had flown up to New Jersey for the funeral, leaving her with Chelbie’s parents for the week while he handled whatever he had to do up there as the sole remaining heir. Her father had been the youngest, her uncle the oldest. There’d been a sister who’d died before Mallory’s birth, from an asthma attack when she’d been a teenager.

  At the time of her grandfather’s death, Mallory had been a junior in high school, and it was mid-term exam time. She’d wanted to go with him, if nothing else to meet oth
er people in their extended family, but he’d insisted she stay home and take her exams.

  A week later, a FedEx box had arrived from a law firm in New Jersey. Her uncle had her sign a couple of forms she didn’t understand.

  But at the time she’d been too busy trying to avoid him, or the inevitable fights with him, or was involved with her studies, to dig any deeper.

  “I don’t know,” Mallory admitted. “Maybe. I never really looked into it.”

  Chelbie’s head cocked to the other side. “I think it’s time you quit avoiding the inevitable. Don’t you? What about the bank accounts? You have a right to see what’s in them.”

  “He transfers my expense allowance every week into my personal account. Or if I need something for school, or car repairs, or whatever.”

  Even as she said it, she felt stupid.

  Chelbie returned the paperwork to her. “Next week we’ll deal with that. Tonight is about having fun. We’re going to go out to dinner with everyone, go to the club, and you’re going to spend the night here with me. My parents are out of town for the weekend, so you have no excuses about how late we stay out. Not that they care anyway, as long as I give them a heads-up so they don’t worry.”

  Mallory drew in a deep breath and held it before letting it out again. “Did I ever tell you how much I envy you?”

  Chelbie threw her arms around her. “You’re like the sister I never had. And my ’rents love you. Please, say the word, and you have a home here.”

  “You’ve already talked with them about me moving in, haven’t you?”

  Chelbie laughed as she sat back. “Guilty. Duh.” She rested her hands on Mallory’s shoulders. “Look, I’m done being the supportive friend. I’m ready to assume the role of ass-riding friend to get you to deal with this stuff. As you witnessed earlier today.”

  “Why haven’t I sicced you on my uncle before now?”

  “I don’t know. I keep asking you that, and you always have a dumbass excuse. Blah, blah, don’t rock the boat. Blah, blah, you don’t want to be a bother. Blah, blah, killing him and dumping his body in the Gulf is illegal. Sheesh.” Chelbie pulled her in for another hug. “Tonight, we feast, we fun, we frolic. Tomorrow, we fight that fucker.”

  “Glad you’re on my side.”

  “Babe, I’m always on your side.”

  * * * *

  Excitement hummed through Kel in a way he rarely felt anymore as he schlepped his equipment back to his apartment.

  Dinner with the two women would be wonderful.

  Especially with Mallory.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman emotionally crippled by a poor body image when it came to participating in lifestyle activities.

  But he’d also personally witnessed many of those same women come to flourish, grow confident, feel sexy, transform their outlook, and start to see themselves as the beautiful women others already saw.

  A point in Mallory’s favor, he’d never heard of her being involved in any drama around the club. As far as he knew, she wasn’t in a relationship. If she was, they never came to the club with her.

  Someone new to rope, who’d never been tied before, who might be drama-free and single?

  Yes, please.

  That he found himself attracted to her and barely knew her was a plus. He hoped as he grew to know her better that his first impression of her wouldn’t be blown out of the water by a cold torpedo of reality.

  That would suck.

  By the time he arrived fifteen minutes early at the restaurant, he’d showered, shaved, and changed into the jeans and black, button-up shirt he planned on wearing to the club. His rope and rigging bags were in the truck, so he didn’t have to go back to his place to get them.

  He wanted to try to time their arrival at the club to be there as soon as they opened, when they were still fairly slow, and get Mallory as comfortable as possible before tying her. He just hoped he could convince her to play with him for a goodly chunk of the evening, not simply a one-and-done tie before she headed off to play with another Top.

  Hell, he hoped Mallory’s friend wouldn’t let her back out of their dinner commitment. He hadn’t exchanged phone numbers with them while at the demo, and they’d left before he’d had a chance to say good-bye.

  He suspected Mallory had bodily dragged Chelbie out of there and probably chewed her out all the way home.

  He smiled. He had lots of friends, good friends, but it seemed Chelbie crossed the line into soul sister with Mallory, from what he’d witnessed in the short amount of time he’d talked with them. Thinking back on other times he’d seen them at the club, it seemed like he remembered Chelbie keeping a close eye on Mallory while her friend scened with Tops. In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing Mallory at the club that Chelbie wasn’t by her side.

  The women arrived right on time, about the same time Tony and Shayla pulled into the parking lot. He’d already given his friends the heads-up that they’d have two newbies joining their group for dinner.

  As they all gathered and were shown to their reserved table, Kel didn’t miss that Chelbie made sure Mallory was seated between himself and her.

  * * * *

  Mallory wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss or kill Chelbie, but here they were at dinner, regardless. If it’d been up to Mallory, she would have blown it off, as well as going back to the club that night.

  No, she didn’t get the feeling Kel was going to be mean or embarrass her, but the more she thought about being the focus of attention, the less she wanted to do it. Anytime he started rigging, a large group gathered around to watch.

  That was something she didn’t know if she could handle.

  Once their orders were in, Kel focused on her again. “Did you grow up in Sarasota?”

  “Sort of. Mostly. I was born in Rapid City, but I’ve been here since I was ten.”

  “Ah. Your parents moved here?”

  “They died,” she said. It didn’t sting as much to say it like it had in the early days. “My uncle and aunt lived here and they took me in.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She took a sip of her water. “Damn drunk driver. They had gone to a friend’s birthday party at a restaurant, and were on their way home when it happened. My neighbor was babysitting when the cops showed up at the house.”

  “My dad was killed by a drunk, too,” he said.

  She stared at him. “Really?”

  He nodded. “He was a truck driver. Asshole going the wrong way on I-275 up in Tampa one night. He flipped the rig trying to avoid them. Got trapped in the cab and burned.”

  “That’s horrible. How old were you?”

  “Seventeen. Fifteen years later, and my mom still can’t get past it in some ways. I’ve tried to talk her into getting out and meeting people, but she can’t make herself do it yet.”

  “I’m sorry. Horrible club to be a member of, huh?”

  “Yeah. Needless to say, I’m not a drinker.”

  She smiled. “Neither am I.”

  “See? Something else we have in common.” He held his glass of iced tea up and she gently clinked her water glass against it. “To teetotalers,” he said.

  * * * *

  Kel desperately wanted to get off the topic of their common tragedy. Dwelling on it wouldn’t exactly foster a mindset that would promote a good, sexy scene later. “So are you still in college?” he asked.

  “Yes. Two more semesters at Ringling. Graphic design.”

  Yay! Another common topic that wasn’t macabre. “Really? Tell me more.” As she talked, he saw signs of her loosening up, relaxing around him.

  He also noted how her friend noticeably backed off, too, chatting with others around the table even as she seemed to keep an ear on their conversation.

  “I’d love to see your portfolio,” he said, genuinely interested in her work.

  Without a word, Chelbie reached back and fumbled around in Mallory’s purse, found her friend’s phone, and quickly swiped throu
gh it before handing it over to him. “She’s too modest,” Chelbie said before returning to her conversation with Tilly about some book series.

  Mallory’s cheeks pinkened up a little, but she didn’t retreat. “Did I mention my best friend’s crazy?” she muttered, smiling.

  He grinned, leaning in so Mallory could actually see the phone and direct the discussion, tell him about her different art pieces as he looked at the pictures. By the time their food arrived, Kel found himself not only impressed by the quality of Mallory’s work, but entranced by her as a person. She was just about to put her phone up when it chimed in her hand.

  She quickly silenced the text message alert, frowning as she started to shove the phone back into her purse.

  Lightning-fast Chelbie once again interceded. “Uh, no he didn’t,” she said, snatching the phone from her friend as she read the text message.

  Kel tried not to let his hopes sink a little. “Is everything okay?”

  “Her stupid uncle,” Chelbie said as she swiped the text message clear and returned the phone to her friend’s purse. “He’s an asshat.” She proceeded to give an abbreviated and extremely one-sided version of events as only a dedicated friend could.

  As Kel listened, he hoped he didn’t have to revise his opinion of Mallory’s drama-free status. She was single, a point in her favor.

  “Hold on,” Seth said from across the table. He’d apparently caught part of the conversation. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but did you say her uncle won’t go through the trust paperwork with her?”

  “Exactly!” Chelbie said, and then she was off to the races again, launching into a more detailed diatribe as Mallory sat there growing progressively more red in the face.

  Kel couldn’t help it. He reached over, found her hand under the table, and gently squeezed. She threw him a grateful glance that made him want to take up the banner of whatever problem this was on her behalf.

  When Chelbie finished the detailed version of events, Seth’s wife, Leah, looked at him. “We could call Ed for her. See if he’ll look into it.”