ReDefined Page 4

  On the way home, he called Amy—not because Jamie had goaded him into it, but because he’d planned to anyway.

  “Events by Amy. This is Amy.”

  Her greeting took him by surprise, but then he realized they’d never communicated by phone before. He had her number because he’d texted her for Darcy when she’d been in the hospital after having Colin. Clearing the sudden frog from his throat, he said, “Hi, Amy. This is Jordan.”

  It took her a second to respond, long enough for him to wonder how many Jordans she knew, but when she spoke, he heard the smile in her voice. “Oh! Hi, Jordan. How are you? Is your sister still in town?”

  “I just dropped her at the airport. I wanted to thank you for talking to her. Where I couldn’t get her to listen to me, she heard you loud and clear. Now she’s considering living at home through her first year of college. My parents are going to be so relieved.”

  “Oh, that was no big deal. I didn’t do much. She probably would have eventually listened to you and your parents.”

  Not his stubborn sister. Jordan shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “Not likely. It was you.”

  He pictured her blushing or shifting under the pleasant weight of his praise. She gave a little laugh as she accepted his gratitude. “Well, then you’re welcome.”

  “I want to properly thank you. Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”

  “Tonight?” He heard noises in the background, papers shifting and perhaps a laptop closing. “What time? I rolled out of bed and started working, so I never got dressed.”

  Images of what she might look like naked assailed him. He wanted to ask what she slept in—did she wear something tiny and sexy, or did she wear something that showcased her little side? However he knew better than to rush. Despite Jamie’s urging, he knew he had to go slow with Amy so he didn’t scare her off. He glanced at his watch and calculated how much time she might need to get ready. “I’ll pick you up at six. Wear a pretty dress. Text me your address, okay?”

  Amy stared at her phone. Her conversation with Jordan had ended several minutes ago, and she still couldn’t believe he’d called or that he wanted to take her to dinner. Then it hit her—this wasn’t a date. He was thanking her for sharing her experiences with his sister and influencing her decision-making process. His order to wear a pretty dress just meant he planned to take her somewhere nice, and it reflected his dominant personality. Part of her was relieved, but mostly she was disappointed. And nervous. And excited.

  With a start, she jumped out of her seat. She had three events scheduled for this week, and so far she had checked more things off her to-do list than she thought she would. When she’d first started her company, she’d learned the hard way which vendors were reliable and which weren’t. Now that she’d been doing it for almost seven years, her checklists and timelines were fairly streamlined.

  Rushing to the bathroom, she started the shower and wiggled out of her Hello Kitty pajamas. How embarrassing would it have been if he’d stopped by and seen her in them?

  An hour later, she stood in front of her closet wearing only a bra and panties. What had he meant by a pretty dress? Without reservations, they weren’t going to get into anywhere too dressy. She considered a sundress that had a great slimming effect on her hips, but it had long sleeves and the night was on the humid side. The last thing she needed to do was promote flop sweat conditions. With a sigh, she selected a flower-print frock with a scooped neck that Darcy said made her boobs really pop. If Jordan’s gaze lingered for even a second, she’d feel vindicated.

  The expected knock came precisely at six. Amy was still in the bathroom trying to put on enough makeup to accent her eyes and cheekbones—her best features—but not cross the line between looking good and trying too hard. She finished blotting the pink lipstick she’d chosen, gathered her confidence, and answered the door. Jordan had cleaned up well, and it transformed his appearance.

  Gone was the shaggy, unkempt hair. He’d had it trimmed. Though it was still on the longer side, it was less biker-guy and more metrosexual. The perpetual five-o’clock shadow was missing as well, and she fought the urge to run her fingertips over his jaw to see if it felt as smooth as it looked. Normally Jordan wore loose-fitting jeans that looked like they were one wash away from falling apart. His shirts tended toward plain white or black. Tonight he’d traded his jeans and tee uniform for black dress pants and a white button-down. He’d gone from utterly hot bad boy to utterly hot gentleman.

  Amy blinked away her shock. “Come in. I have to grab my purse, and then we can get going.”

  He smiled, an easy lift of his sensual lips, as he came inside. Keys dangled from one hand, and the other was shoved in his pocket. He looked around the living room of her small bungalow. Sample books lay scattered on her coffee table and sofa, and her latest attempt at a macramé handbag lay over the arm of the chair where she’d left it.

  “Sorry about the mess. This is sort of my office.” Technically the second bedroom was her office, but she hated being stuck in there. Since she lived alone, she saw no reason not to expand her operation to include the living room and kitchen.

  “It’s fine. You weren’t expecting company, and I gave you short notice.”

  When she slipped into the kitchen to retrieve her purse, she saw a coloring book she’d left on the table. The steady back-and-forth and application of color helped calm her nerves and improved her concentration, but it was kind of a childish activity, and so she tended to hide evidence of this hobby. She shoved the book and tin of colored pencils into a drawer, and she grabbed her purse.

  Jordan had moved to her bookshelf. His fingers traced the spines of several of her favorite titles—Dr. Seuss books she’d loved when she was little and her complete Nancy Drew collection. He crouched down, pulled a well-worn copy of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom from a lower shelf, and paged through it.

  Amy watched, her anxiety skyrocketing. Most people didn’t keep children’s books out on a shelf unless they had kids. Nobody looked that closely at her bookshelf, not even Eric, who’d lived with her for two years. He hadn’t been a reader.

  Jordan glanced up, a huge grin on his face. “I love this book. It was one of my favorites. I read it to every single one of my brothers and sisters until they wouldn’t listen anymore.”

  Tension left Amy. “Darcy and I once made up a routine to it. We made our parents watch us sing and dance to the whole thing.”

  He replaced the book and stood. “I bet you were cute.”

  Amy grinned. “I don’t know about Darcy, but I was flipping adorable.”

  She thought he’d laugh, but he merely nodded thoughtfully.

  Dropping the smile, she gestured to her dress. “Is this okay? You didn’t say where we were going, but given that you look like what Trina says you look like for court, I’m wondering if I should change?”

  His gaze traveled down and up, a trip of respectable length that did not make a pit stop at breast level. “You look gorgeous.”

  The compliment fell flat, mostly because she wondered if she’d sounded like she was fishing. Really she’d wanted to know if she should change into something more dressy. She slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Then we should get going.”

  His frown was gone before it was fully there. She felt his magnetism behind her as she headed out. It didn’t surprise her that he opened his truck door or helped her inside. No matter what he wore, he’d always been solicitous when interacting with her.

  “You don’t get motion sickness on boats, do you?”

  “Not so far.” Because she could do it without seeming too obvious, she looked at him while he drove. “You have a boat?”

  “No. There’s a restaurant on the river I’ve been wanting to try. It’s called Huron Belle.”

  Amy had heard of the new place. It boasted elegant surf and turf served as the boat cruised up and down the Huron River. She perked up and clapped her hands together. “Oh, I’ve heard great things about th
eir cheddar biscuits.”

  His husky laugh filled the truck’s cab. “God, Amy. You’re amazing. I love how the little things excite you.”

  As Amy lived in Ann Arbor, it didn’t take long to get to the restaurant located on the edge of the river that wound through the vibrant city. Jordan escorted her up the ramp with his hand on her lower back. His palm was so large it made her feel small—a completely foreign experience. Having a larger frame and being 5’8 meant she was as big or bigger than most men she encountered.

  They were seated immediately, and by the time the server brought drinks, the boat was sedately cruising down the Huron River. Amy looked around the upper deck and realized that not every table had a view as good as theirs. The setting was highly romantic. “Did you have a reservation?” She refrained from looking at Jordan as she asked because she wasn’t sure she should have asked. Hearing that she’d been a last minute replacement for a planned date wasn’t high on her bucket list.

  “I know a guy. He owed me a favor.”

  Now she looked at him, her jaw dropping. “And you cashed it in on me? Oh, Jordan. You shouldn’t have wasted this on me. I’m sure some beautiful woman would have loved to be here with you.”

  He reached across the table, took her hand in his, and captured her gaze in his chocolate pools. “I’m here with a beautiful woman, and I hope you like being here with me.”

  With the way he was looking at her, she could barely breathe. Heat crawled up her neck, and it wasn’t all due to embarrassment. Some serious chemistry seemed to be arcing between them. “I didn’t mean—Of course I like being here with you. I just meant—”

  “I know what you meant, and I won’t have you diminishing yourself for any reason. If I wanted to be here with someone else, I would be.”

  Family was of primary importance to him. Amy was well aware of this. She’d heard Malcolm talk about how Jordan was from a close-knit family. To him, this was an appropriate way to thank someone for stopping his sister from making a potentially painful mistake. Amy nodded, and the server putting a basket of bread between them stopped her from having to say anything further on the subject.

  Jordan thanked the server and distributed the bread plates. He lifted both dark brows in a dramatic gesture. “It’s time to see if the biscuits live up to their reputation. Though if you don’t like them, you’re kind of stuck here.”

  Chuckling, she said, “I guess being on a mini-cruise is one way to stop people from leaving if they don’t like the food. And nobody is going to get dressed up to jump overboard.” She tore a flaky section from her biscuit and popped it into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she savored the way it melted on her tongue. “It definitely lives up to the hype.”

  She opened her eyes to find him regarding her with a hungry expression, and for the first time, she dared hope he might feel something more than friendship. After all, he didn’t seem to be looking at the biscuit.

  For the rest of the cruise, they shared stories about themselves. She’d talked with Jordan before about many topics, but they’d always been surrounded by friends and relatives, so they’d never touched on topics that were overly personal. He talked about growing up as the oldest of six and how much he loved undercover work. She told him about how seriously she took the role of big sister until Malcolm had come along. “It’s like he took the burden off my shoulders, and now she’s one of my best friends instead of someone I have to look out for.”

  “Who are your other best friends?”

  “I’d say Paget. We’ve been friends since middle school. She moved to Madison for a job a few years ago, so we’re not as close as we used to be, but I know she’d be here in a heartbeat if I needed her. And then there’s Cori and Mandy. We roomed together in college, and we’ve remained close. Recently I’ve become friends with Layla because she hangs out with Darcy so much, and of course Trina. What about you?”

  “You know Malcolm, Dustin, and Keith. I’m friends with Brandy, Liam, Jed, Lexee, and Avery as well. Everybody I know here is a fellow agent.”

  Amy rested her chin on her palm. “What about back home? You didn’t know any of those guys until you moved here.”

  “When I go home, I usually get shit-faced with my buddy Dan. I always catch lunch with Rachel. If Steve or Keith—different Keith—are around, we’ll get together. It’s hard because we all went our separate ways after college. Most of them went into office jobs, and I went to Quantico.”

  Amy seized upon the lone female name. “Rachel?”

  “She was my first mentor when I began exploring becoming a Dom. She’s a Domina who sponsored munches, did demonstrations, and taught seminars in different techniques and philosophies. She still does those things sometimes, but she’s in her seventies now and her health isn’t what it used to be, so she has passed the torch onto others in the local community.”

  Knowing they weren’t an item made Amy feel better, though she knew there was never a good reason to be jealous about the past, especially over someone with whom she didn’t have a future. “I wasn’t aware there were different philosophies. It all seems so cut-and-dried, with the Doms throwing out commands and expecting women to follow their orders or be punished for it.”

  Jordan stared at her thoughtfully as the server cleared away their plates and promised to return with the dessert cart. Once they were alone, he leaned in. “I thought Malcolm and Darcy explained the D/s dynamic to you? That doesn’t sound like how Mal would phrase it.”

  Malcolm had patiently explained many things, and he’d given her a lot of articles to read. They’d answered a lot of questions and set her mind at ease about Darcy’s relationship with Malcolm and the one she’d enjoyed with Scott before he’d been killed, but they’d left a lot of stuff in the air. “I know that sometimes women are in charge and the guys are submissive. Or in same-sex relationships, it’s whatever fits their personalities. And I know that some people switch. But that doesn’t mean I have a complete understanding of it. All the articles explain stuff, but then they end by saying that every relationship is different, which seems to negate most of what they said in the article.” She took a breath to gather her rambling thoughts.

  The server brought the dessert cart. Jordan looked at the selections. “What would you like, Amy?”

  She’d eaten plenty already. “That sundae looks delicious, but I’m stuffed.”

  Jordan grinned. “A brownie sundae with two spoons.” The server left, and Jordan closed his hands over hers on the top of the table. Amy shivered at the accidentally intimate contact. “Cold?”

  As dusk had fallen, so had the temperature, but not that much. It was purely a reaction to Jordan’s touch. “I’m fine.”

  “Every relationship is different because they’re comprised of different people. There are no hard and fast rules, only common-sense guidelines. If you’re not comfortable with something, don’t do it. Being dominant doesn’t give you a free pass to order anybody around, and being submissive doesn’t mean you’re obligated to follow orders. All points of authority and submission are negotiated by the people involved, or at least that’s how most good relationships operate. I ask you to consider that any worthwhile Dominant who loves his or her submissive worships them and wants nothing more than for them to be happy. What they do and how they do it should always keep the submissive’s happiness in mind.”

  Amy thought about it. “I understand what you mean in theory. And when I look at the people I know in those kinds of relationships, I see that they’re happy and very devoted to one another, but all that seems rather vanilla—but not vanilla.” She sighed. “I’m not very good at articulating this.”

  “You can ask me anything.” He slid his hands around hers so that he was holding them.

  She stared at the way his hands surrounded and engulfed hers. “I don’t know what to ask.”

  “Perhaps when you look at their relationships, you don’t quite see a dynamic that appeals to you?”

  It was like he’d read her mind. Sh
e looked out over the water at the way the lights from buildings lining the shore shimmered on the surface. “I don’t want to seem like I’m judging them, because I’m not. They’re happy, and I’m happy for them.” Looking back at Jordan, she admired the way the lights made his eyes seem infinitely deep. “I guess I don’t quite see anything specific that appeals to me, just maybe some small parts, which kind of knocks me out of the kinky world.”

  He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “There’s a lot more out there than those flavors. A D/s relationship isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing; it’s carefully built and nurtured by the people in the relationship. The key is to find someone you want to build a life with, and go from there.”

  The soft breeze, the great food, and the string quartet combined with his sweet sentiment, and Amy’s breath caught. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t quite think while he looked at her with such significance and meaning.

  The server brought dessert, and though he tried to set it down and sneak away, the moment broke. Jordan released her hands and gave her a spoon. “Have at least one bite. There’s no way I’m going to eat this all.”

  Later that night, as they stood on Amy’s porch gazing into one another’s eyes, she yearned for him to kiss her. She waited for it, but he simply unlocked her door, handed over her keys, and said, “Thanks for coming out tonight. I had fun.”

  Amy watched him get in his truck. He waved before driving off. No kiss. She must have really misread his signals. It wasn’t the first time she’d been an idiot. With a sigh, she resolved to not read into anything. He’d treated her to dinner to show gratitude. That’s all.

  Chapter Five

  Attending the rally hadn't been high on Brian's list of things he felt like doing, but then he reasoned that like-minded people probably had more of that high-quality rock he'd enjoyed. As he'd smoked both crystals the man had given him, Brian had nothing else to do.