“You have all your contacts, right?”

He nodded.

“And your phone is back on?”

“Yes.”

She tried to catch his gaze. “You still have a week left. How about you come back to see me twice more?” She smiled warmly. “Maybe I’ll watch a John Wayne movie and we can discuss it.”

He rumbled a laugh, making her feel a bit better about his mental state.

“What?”

“I can’t picture you watching John Wayne.”

Scowling, she shifted and crossed her legs. “Why not?”

“You seem so . . . proper.”

This time, she laughed. If he only knew. “Maybe so, but we have lives outside of here. I’m not my job, just like you’re not your addiction.”

He smiled slyly. “There’s no ring on your finger. No pictures of kids on your desk. What kind of life do you have outside of here?”

Averting his gaze, she swallowed hard. That hit close to home. Bastard. She almost laughed. There was truth there. Reading dirty books every night with her vibrator as her only company wasn’t a life. She talked big about courage and facing your fears, but was she living it?

Usually she didn’t let anything hold her back from what she wanted, least of all fear. And up to this point she’d been pretty forward in figuring out the BDSM stuff. But something about Banner, the conviction of his intentions, made her nervous. On an intrinsic level, she knew that if she took the next step with him, there was no going back.

“Sorry,” Sean said. “That was uncalled for. I’m sure you at least have a boyfriend or something.”

Ignoring the fishing, she smiled slightly, then grabbed her schedule book off her desk. “Tuesday at eleven, okay?”

He nodded, then stood up and looked down at her. “I think you’re right, Kate. Being afraid will drive me back to rock bottom. And I don’t want to be there again. I’m gonna stay positive.”

“Good.” She watched him leave the room, pleased with his change in attitude and hoping it would last.

As for her, it was time to practice what she preached. She took her phone out of her desk drawer, texted Banner, then hit SEND before she could chicken out.

Chapter 2

Answering work e-mail was the most boring part of Banner’s day. He’d spent all morning trying to avoid it, but eventually there was nothing left to read, sign, or sharpen. The first lines of several messages should have piqued his curiosity, but they only made him want to bang his head on something. He didn’t feel like being a responsible adult today, but the boss wasn’t allowed to have tantrums. Although his protégé, Belle, fielded a lot of the nuisance messages for him, there were some he had to answer himself.

Annoyed by the rub of his shirt cuffs against his desk, he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them back to his elbows, revealing the ravens tattooed on one forearm and the world tree on the other. Although he never let business acquaintances see his tattoos, knowing that they were there under his business attire gave him some comfort. He hadn’t always been Mr. Suit and Tie Guy, let alone Mr. Wholesome Family Business Guy, and even now the trappings of the respectable world chafed. This hadn’t been what he’d wanted out of life. Not by a long shot.

The most pressing message was from Arthur Blackwell who wanted to know if Banner was interested in making a deal on a bigger purchase of cane sugar. Now that they’d found a niche market with museum gift shops and hipster bars, Cobalt Harbor Soda had new distributors popping up daily. It was hard to believe that his father had lost almost everything before old-fashioned soda flavors had caught on. He’d lived just long enough to see the beginning of the good times.

His dynamic, hardworking father lying still and waxy on the hospital gurney crept into his mind. He’d just missed saying good-bye to him, even though he’d raced through town when he’d gotten his mother’s frantic call. Blowing the red lights that night hadn’t made a difference. There was no tragic, unfinished business between them, but the loss of Hans Jennings had left a hole in his life. He’d taught Banner how to be a businessman, then left him holding the bag. There were so many times in a day when he wished he could call his father and ask for advice. Now he had to figure things out on his own—his mother, sister, and much younger brother were counting on him to keep them all afloat. There was a constant pressure on him not to fuck up. His life wasn’t about himself or his own needs anymore.

The door to his office opened and shut again. He kept working, knowing Belle would tell him if there was something that needed his attention. Chances were she just needed a file.

“Mr. Jennings, can I get your autograph?” That fake falsetto wasn’t Belle.

He glanced up, knowing who it was even before he laid eyes on the muscle-bound jerk standing just inside the door. “Ambrose, you dickless bastard, when did you get home?”

His best friend smiled. “Just now. And, dickless? Really? That’s not what Anna said.”

“Quit fucking my exes.”

“If you’re done with them, they’re fair game. Besides, there are only so many submissives in Felix, New Jersey. I can’t get all moral about dating your cast-offs. They’re always looking to talk about you anyway. You should put me on the payroll as a therapist for the ones you throw away.”

Banner’s guts twisted. There’d been a string of unsuccessful relationships for him during the past couple of years, but did Ambrose expect him to stay with girls who weren’t a good match?

“I don’t throw people away. There are just specific things that I need, and if that’s not compatible with what a woman wants, then why would I lie to her and let us both become attached knowing things ultimately won’t work?” He closed his laptop and sighed.

Ambrose laughed. “You’re getting cynical in your old age. If you weren’t such a kinky bastard you’d have found someone by now. Finding a woman who wants to grovel at your feet for the rest of her life might be a tall order. You might have to satisfy yourself with a submissive and see if you can slowly push her limits.” He slouched into the chair across from Banner and ran a hand over his bald head. Between his build and his shaved head, Ambrose looked like a thug—even in a suit.

A grumble escaped him. “Lately there are a lot of women hanging around saying they’re submissives, when really all they want is some hot sex. I mean, I’m all for hot sex, but fake submission doesn’t get me off.”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re not all fake submissives though. Eventually, you’ll just stumble into the right girl and it will all click. Yadda yadda. Why don’t you try training someone to please you instead of relying on chance to put the perfect girl in your path? Do you think she’ll show up here wearing a collar and begging you to be her Master?”

“No.” The word sounded sullen, even to Banner.

“Come on. You look like a man who wants to take me to lunch.” Ambrose got to his feet and stretched. “The pretzels they gave me on the plane back from New Orleans have worn off, and I need food before I start biting people.”

Banner snorted. “Belle might be into that, but her sub might claw your eyes out.”

“Ohhh yeahhh . . . if Belle’s sub wanted to get feisty with me I wouldn’t complain.”

“She doesn’t like men.”

“Neither do I. It gives us something in common.”

Banner grimaced as he stood. He grabbed his cell, and it promptly went off in his hand. Figured. “Where am I taking you for lunch?” He unlocked his phone and glanced at it. The number didn’t look familiar.