Free As You Wish by Belle Maurice Page B

don’t want to do this.”
    “Yes, I do. Please. Master,” she sobbed.
    Ryan put his hands around her shoulders and put a few inches between them. It gave him just enough room to think. “Stop for a minute. You’re upset. You’ve had a long day, and you’re tired. I don’t want to take advantage of you because it’s late and you’re feeling weak.”
    Patricia pulled away to walk around the table. When she turned back, the aloof Patricia mask was in place. When she spoke, her voice was icy cool. “Of course. You’re right. I won’t be able to make our appointment tomorrow. I have something more important to attend to.”
    The sharp pain in his chest made Ryan wonder if she’d stabbed him when he wasn’t looking. A quick check confirmed that his clothing was still intact and the handle of a butter knife, or possibly a spoon, wasn’t sticking out of his chest. “Would you like to reschedule for Sunday afternoon?” He tried to match her calm, but he wanted to throw himself on the floor and beg her to have him. Now he understood the meaning of the word “anything.”
    “I’ll be busy. And I’m on call Monday night.”
    He nodded. “I’ll choose another day and let you know. Good night.”
    “Good night. And thank you for the tea.”
    He couldn’t resist a sneer. “I’m here to serve.” Then he turned and walked out through the front door. As he checked the rest of the doors, he forced himself to take deep, even breaths. He’d been getting too close to her and needed to get some perspective. Forgetting she was a client. He had to remember that.
    Testing the kitchen door, he peered through the window. It was dark and empty, the teacup still sitting on the table half full. She would probably leave it until Mrs. Dudley came next week. Not only was she the client, she was a spoiled princess who threw tantrums when she didn’t get what she wanted, even when what she wanted was the gardener. He shouldn’t start getting ideas about her having feelings for him. She just needed her dirty little release, and he happened to be her supplier.
    He walked back to his little cottage, firmly closing the door behind him. A little time and a little perspective were all he needed.
    * * * *
    Patricia tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. It had been just over two weeks since her encounter with Ryan in the kitchen. Since then, she’d barely gotten a word out of him, and no black-paper-wrapped roses had appeared in her mailbox. Several nights since then, she’d sat at the bottom of the stairs and watched the knob turn as he checked to make sure everything was secure, debating whether or not to open the door and try to talk to him.
    As soon as he’d left that night, she’d gone up to her bedroom, thrown herself across the bed, and cried herself to sleep. He’d been so gentle and so kind and, in retrospect, so correct. She’d been tired and lonely, and she should never have thrown herself at him. He wasn’t interested in her as a woman. As he’d pointed out, she was his boss. It was in his best interest to stay cordial with her, which could include the occasional domination and submission session.
    Which, at the moment, she wanted desperately.
    David was moving over the weekend. He’d bought a condo on the near side of town and was pressing his suit. If he didn’t manage to mention in conversation how pleased their parents would be, he brought up her duty and her family motto. His parents had also called to express their excitement at the union and to remind her how much her parents wanted this, as if they knew for certain.
    Rita pressed the opposite suit. She maintained that David was scaly, and though the idea of Patricia being First Lady had given her pause, she’d argued that the end didn’t justify the means. She’d even resorted to fixing Patricia up with other men. So far Patricia had gone out with a city planner and a gynecologist, and Rita was threatening her with a real estate developer. And instead