One to Keep

Chapter Nine

Alexei stopped and stared at the big screen outside his motel room. He felt a smile cross his face. The movie was something in black and white with an old American actor. He searched his memory.

Cary Grant, he thought. It was a screwball comedy that he’d seen before, and it never failed to make him laugh.

There were at least twenty cars out in the parking lot of the drive-in portion of the Bliss Movie Motel. There were even a couple of people huddled in lawn chairs close to the snack bar. They held mugs of something hot and passed popcorn between them. The rooms all around him had open curtains that people watched out of. He’d had to move quickly to not block the show.

Only one room was dark. His. He hoped Ivan was still sleeping.

He paused outside the door because he knew what it meant to go in. It meant he had to go back to work. It meant he had to leave this happy time he’d managed to find. He preferred to stand in the cold and remember the afternoon he’d spent teaching two awkward preteens how to handle a hockey stick. That had felt good. It felt right to teach something that brought joy. He’d even enjoyed the time he’d spent with the crusty doctor, though the man hadn’t warmed to him at all.

It had been very easy to forget for a moment why he was here.

After he’d spent a few hours with the boys and the doctor, he’d headed back to Stella’s, where he had dinner and then moved on to the tavern next door for a drink.

That was where he remembered.

The girl was here. Jennifer. That was her name, and it looked like she wasn’t alone. He’d been surprised when the whole bar had stopped and a good portion of the patrons moved into a small hall where they kept whispering to each other and shushing anyone who became too loud. When the door everyone was interested in had opened, a couple had emerged to triumphant shouts and catcalls, and one large man who claimed they’d ruined his desk forever.

He’d recognized her immediately. She was the brunette from the photo, the one they were looking for. His heart had seized as he realized that perhaps the job would not go as easily as he had hoped.

The man with her had been shocked at first at the large crowd listening in on his lovemaking session, but he’d scooped the woman into his arms and scowled at everyone he passed. He was obviously protective of the woman.

Alexei would have to get her alone. He would have to try to reason with her. Perhaps if he kept quiet about having found her, he could distract Ivan. Once he had the painting in hand, he could force them to leave quickly and with no bloodshed.

Cary Grant took a pratfall that had everyone laughing. What would it be like to live in this small town? Quiet and protected. If he was ordinary, he would march back to the diner and invite Holly to come out with him. He would buy her popcorn and make sure she could see the movie screen. He would treat her like a lady.

Alexei knew that wasn’t going to happen. He shoved the key into the lock and opened the door to his room. The best he could hope for was a good night’s sleep, with no dreams of blood and screams.

He closed the door behind him quickly. The room was warm. He didn’t want to let in the chill. It was very quiet, with the single exception of the faucet in the bathroom running. Ivan was awake. The room had been neatly kept. Only one of the two double beds was slightly askew from Ivan’s nap. He hadn’t straightened it, but his case was open.

A low hum came from the bathroom.

Alexei’s blood chilled. Ivan only hummed after a job, one he particularly loved. He only hummed after he’d drawn blood.

With reluctant hands, he pushed open the bathroom door.

“Watch it,” Ivan said. A wide grin was on his face as he washed blood off his skin. His shirt was off, showing his chest and its intricate tattoos. “Careful where you walk. I don’t want to get blood everywhere.”

Alexei’s stomach rolled. In the bathtub was a pale, slim brunette, her brown eyes open but unseeing. Her throat had been slit by a professional.

“It wasn’t her,” Ivan said gruffly. “I thought I had got lucky. I picked her up outside a gas station when I went to fill the tank. She was trying to hitchhike. I thought she was trying to get away.

Apparently, she’s just some tourist who fought with her boyfriend.

Bah, it looked like her.”

Alexei swallowed but tried to contain his nausea. It was one thing to kill other thugs, but this was different. He’d killed rival mob members who were out to kill him. This was flat-out murder, and he’d had a hand in it.

“We need to get rid of her before the cleaning crew comes in the morning,” Ivan said as he reached for a cigarette. He lit it quickly and seemed completely at ease as he looked down at his handiwork.

Alexei had to give him credit. Ivan was a professional. There wasn’t a drop of blood outside the tub. The woman’s body was small and fit into the tiny, utilitarian tub neatly. They could wash away the blood. They couldn’t wash away the body.

“Come, my friend, don’t look so down,” Ivan said, stretching.

“We’ll get rid of this one and start again tomorrow. She’s out there.

We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

Ivan walked out of the bathroom, mumbling something about a tarp. Alexei was left with a girl who couldn’t be more than twenty-five. She was about the same age that Mikhail had been when a gangster had murdered him and left his body in the river. He didn’t know her name. His heart ached because someone out there would miss her.

And he knew how that felt.

Sunlight filtered into Jen’s room. She could feel it on her face, but she wasn’t ready to open her eyes yet. She wanted to stay in that amazing dream she was having, the one where Stef didn’t fight her anymore, where he understood she was different and they would be okay.

Unfortunately, that had not been how her evening had ended. She took a deep breath and shifted, her mind playing out the fiasco that had happened after she’d gotten Stef to make love to her.

It had been utterly ridiculous for him to think for a second that she had a thing for James Glen. The cowboy was hot, but he had nothing on Stef. And Logan was even worse. Logan was still a kid. He was barely…twenty-two. Damn it. Logan was almost her age.

It wasn’t the same, she argued mentally. Logan still lived at home, and Jen had been on her own most of her life. Her mom had loved her, but she wasn’t exactly a “dinner on the table at six” mom. Jen had learned to take care of herself at a young age. She was surely more mature than Logan.

Now Zane Hollister and the rest of Bliss—she was questioning their maturity. Who stood outside a locked door and listened in on two people making passionate, beautiful love? Who cheered when the door came open?

Of course, the proper way to handle such an awkward situation was to be brazen through it. Jen would have just taken a bow, but Stef had to play the caveman. Stef, who had public sex in BDSM clubs, if the stories were correct. Stefan Talbot, Mr. Dark and Brooding Sexuality himself, had turned a bright red. He’d hauled her up into his arms and growled at anyone who got in his way. He’d had a few choice words to say, and then they’d been off. He’d shoved her on the back of the snowmobile and told her to hold on.

Then he’d dumped her in her room.

So much for making love.

She wasn’t giving up, though, she promised herself as she tried to pull the covers up. After talking to Callie, she was more certain than ever that Stef just needed a little push. Of course, she’d thought that was what she’d given him when she’d leaned over Zane’s desk and let him use that ruler on her ass. She could still feel it. It had hurt, but there was something erotic about the pain.

There was nothing erotic about the chill, though. She tugged, but the blanket wouldn’t move. Jen sat up, and her heart melted, the chill of the morning gone the instant she saw the man who had fallen asleep at the foot of her bed.

“Stef?”

He came up so fast he started to roll off the bed. His body hit the hardwood floor, and he cursed. His hand came up to hold his head.

Jen held the covers back. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

He still had to be cold. Though she expected a fight, he immediately crawled under the covers.

“Stay on your side, but open your legs,” he demanded in a husky voice.

The morning was looking up. Jen hauled one leg up slightly to give his hands entry. She screamed when it wasn’t his hand he put there.

Stef’s ice-cold feet found a place between her nice warm thighs.

“Please, Jennifer. I’m so cold.”

Jen growled but lowered her leg, making a nest for his cold feet.

She shivered, but Stef sighed with pleasure. He huddled close to her, his body at a silly angle so he didn’t have to move his feet.

“I hate being cold.”

“Hello, maybe you shouldn’t live nine thousand feet above sea level.” Jen felt her teeth chatter as his ridiculously cold hands settled on her waist.

“I was born in Texas. Heat is in my blood, but I got to Bliss as fast as I could,” he said.

She was still cold, but the idea that her body heat was warming him gave her such pleasure she didn’t complain. “Why didn’t you just hop into bed with me? It’s warm under the covers.” His mouth turned down. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You just meant to come in and stare at me while I slept? That’s very creepy of you, Stef,” Jen said, softening it with a smile. He was weird and intense. She was cool with it. It was just who he was. He could stare at a canvas for hours before he even opened a tube of paint. She remembered one afternoon where he’d stared at that blank sheet, and she’d stared at him, the hours rolling by as they were both lost in their own worlds.

“I’m not usually so weird,” Stef said, his voice calm, but she heard the gravity in it.

“Really?” Jen couldn’t help the sarcasm. He was absolutely the weirdest person she knew, and that was saying something. “Let’s see, one, you’re an artist, and a really well-known one. That’s strike one.

Artists are weird. Two, you’re a Dom. You like to spank girls and tie them up, and there are things in that guesthouse that I don’t even know what they’re used for.”

His feet rubbed against her skin. “When did you go to the guesthouse?”

“Callie took me. I was curious. She even showed me where the peepholes and the hiding spots are. Per—vert. As for your third strike, you live in Bliss. You’re out. Just own up to it.”

“I never claimed I was normal, Jennifer,” Stef replied. “But then, anyone who claims to be normal is probably lying or miserable because they don’t know their own natures. Humans are freaks. It’s better we accept it. Are you going to deny that you liked your spanking last night?”

A warm rush of arousal poured over her. “Not on your life. Don’t misunderstand me, babe. I love every freaky inch of you. You might be a complete perv, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. If it makes you happy to sleep at the end of my bed like some crazy stalker, then I’m fine with it, but you could have crawled in with me.” He pulled his feet away, and suddenly his hands cupped her face, and his eyes were a serious, stormy gray. “This is a bad idea, but I don’t think I can stay away from you.” Finally, some progress. She snuggled close and was perfectly happy when his arms crept around her. “I don’t want you to. I never wanted you to.”

“You might after you figure out what I want,” he murmured. His hand stroked her hair as he spoke. “I want to train you. I want a Master/sub relationship. It’s all I can do, Jennifer. For the time it takes to clear up everything, I think we should play together. I’ll understand if you don’t want that. I think we’ll end up in bed either way.” She didn’t want to stay out of bed. And he was fooling himself if he thought all he wanted was a D/s relationship. “I’ve read up on BDSM. I might be a novice, but I know a little something.” His hands were creeping up the tank top she was wearing. “Are you sure? I can be a bit demanding when it comes to play.” He was already demanding. He already pushed and pulled her this way and that, and she wasn’t even getting regular sex for it. “I think I can handle you.”

“So young. So naïve.”

So full of shit. “Bring it on, Talbot.” Something hard flinted across his face. “Fine. Show me your breasts.”

Jen threw the covers off and had that tank top over her head in a heartbeat. The room was still chilly, but the cold wasn’t what had her nipples puckering. She was finally in bed with Stef, and she hadn’t had to force him there.

“And your pussy.”

She pushed the pajama bottoms she had on off, along with the bikini panties she was wearing.

“Spread your legs.”

His voice had lowered a couple of octaves, and it poured over her skin like thick, rich honey. She complied, though it felt awkward. Stef sat up and looked down at her. He didn’t say a thing, just sat there.

His stormy eyes took in every inch of her skin. Jen wondered if she should put on a show, but thought better of it. He was staring at her the way he looked at a piece of art. Just his eyes on her was making her skin heat up.

Why this man? Jen asked herself as she lay still under his considering gaze. Life would be so much easier if she could love someone simple. Stef was beyond complex. He was outrageous, kinky, sexy as hell, and the most loyal man she’d ever met. He’d helped out just about everyone in Bliss. Everyone knew he was the world’s worst sucker for a hard luck story. Didn’t have health insurance? See Stef. He’d pay for your medical bills. When drought had threatened the local ranchers, they didn’t go to the bank, they came to Stef Talbot. When Zane and Callie and Nate needed a loan to start their tavern, they had gone straight to Stef. He really was the king of Bliss, but sometimes he held himself apart. He needed to know that the people he helped loved him, too. Jen was pretty sure he never thought about that.

While Stef stared at her, his eyes fastening on her pussy, she stared back at him. He was a work of art. His jaw was a strong line.

She would use a single, thick brushstroke to capture its stony grace.

His skin was smooth and sun-kissed, gold and tan, blended with cream. His hair was longer than usual, falling just over his eyes in midnight locks. And his eyes. She’d always loved his eyes. They were ever changing with his mood. They went from flint gray when he was angry to a warm, almost misty tone when he softened. When he was aroused, there was a storm in those eyes that always pulled her in.

Her whole body flushed with desire, and he hadn’t touched her yet.

A slow smile creased his perfect face. “Very good, Jennifer. Now get dressed. I want to show you something.” Jen sat up. “What?”

He gracefully rose and stretched his long limbs. “I said get dressed. My father is running around here. I don’t want him to see you naked. He already thinks you’re a felon.” Jen felt her eyes narrow. “I don’t really care what your dad thinks.

What game are you playing that you think you can get me all hot and bothered and then leave me this way?” A low growl came out of his throat, and suddenly his body was pressed to hers. His weight held her down, and the menace in his face did all kinds of things to her heart rate. “I am not playing a game. I am the Master, and you are the sub. That means you do what I tell you to do when it comes to sex, love. I know I can’t expect you to listen to me when it comes to anything else, but I am the Master in this room.

Now, you have a choice to make, accept my will or tell me no and this is done.”

Jen clenched her fists. It wasn’t fair, but this was the way it was with Stef. If she wanted a chance to prove they belonged together, this was what she had to do. In return, he would coddle and protect her.

He would lavish her with affection. The fact that he was willing to cede that he didn’t have the final say outside of sex was actually a win, she decided. She knew that wasn’t the deal with his other subs.

He was in control of every aspect of life during their time together.

She was different. It would have to be enough for now. “I can’t get dressed with you on top of me, babe.” He got up and held his hand out. Jen let him help her up. She tossed on the tank and her PJ pants. He’d picked up her panties and shoved them into the pocket of his sweats.

“You don’t need them,” he said almost defensively. “No panties for you.”

His kinks made her smile. She imagined what he’d do with her underwear. She doubted he would simply toss them in the laundry.

Not her Stef. He’d carry her underwear around with him all day. He wouldn’t pull them out and show them to his friends. He would keep them in his pocket. Every so often he would put his hand in his pocket and caress them and remind himself that she’d said yes. “I don’t need them, Stef.”

He flushed as though her acceptance of him pleased him on a fundamental level. When she was properly attired, she took his hand.

He led her through the gorgeous manor house his father had built. He was silent as he moved from the west wing to the east wing. Jen had spent enough time there to know where he was going. His studio.

Most of the east wing’s second floor had been transformed into the most amazing studio, with big bay windows to catch the early morning light.

“So, you still haven’t explained how you came to sleep at the end of my bed,” she said as they passed the grand staircase.

“I told you, I wanted to check on you. And it’s not really your bed, is it? It belongs to me.”

She chuckled. In Stef’s mind, everything belonged to him. He firmly believed the whole damn town was his. She wasn’t an idiot.

“Well, you shoved me there, so I’ll call it mine. And really, where was I going to go?”

He stopped, his handsome face frowning down at her. “As you so rarely stay where I put you, I will have to decline to answer that. I really don’t know. It could have been anywhere.” Jen groaned, but followed as he continued walking. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

“I thought we had, and really, why bother? We could just read about it in the paper this morning.”

“Is that what’s bugging you? It’s no big deal. Everyone would have known anyway. I was totally going to tell Callie, and she would tell Nate and Zane and…well, she would tell everyone. Really, it just saved Callie a whole bunch of phone calls.” His brows came together in the middle of his forehead. “I didn’t like it. It was private. I’m thinking about sending the health inspector to Trio. I’m also thinking about buying a bunch of rats and releasing them in Trio about twenty minutes before the health inspector gets there.”

“Don’t, babe. Once the Hollister-Wright clan came crying to you, you would just end up paying for the exterminator. Save yourself the expense.”

“Maybe not,” he replied, stopping in front of the door to his studio. “Maybe I’ll tell the bastard to go to hell, and that he’s not welcome in my town anymore.”

“Oh, they won’t send Zane to talk to you,” Jen said. “They are way smarter than that. Callie will come to your door with those sad puppy eyes, begging you to save her livelihood. She’ll talk about her future children who will starve, and it will be their Uncle Stef’s fault.” He moaned a little and then opened the door. Early morning light flooded the studio, a vibrant, clean light that had Jen gasping. Stef had redone the studio. Before it had been stark and masculine, with nothing in it but art supplies. It had been a refuge for him. He’d once said he liked it because there were no distractions. Jen had complained there was no comfort, either.

Tears pricked at her eyes. There was a big, comfy couch in one corner, and a small fridge and table. Two easels sat side by side in the perfect spot to catch the light. The big bay windows, once bare, now had gorgeous, gauzy, white window treatments. The room was still stark, but femininity was encroaching, like something inevitable.

He really was dumb.

She turned and threw her arms around him. “I love it.”

He stood there for a moment, but finally his arms came around her. His voice was gruff. “I’m glad, but I didn’t do it for you. It was just time to change.”

So dumb. He could talk about how their relationship was all about sex, but he’d never done this for a sub before. He’d practically rebuilt the room to her specifications. She decided to let it go for now. She pulled away reluctantly. “Well, it’s beautiful.” He stepped back, awkward for once as he turned a hand out.

“Your supplies are over there. This is just the stuff I managed to get boxed up before we left. It will be a couple of weeks for the rest of it.

These arrived this morning, along with your work. I had it all crated and shipped overnight. I opened it, but I haven’t taken them out yet. I thought you would like to do it.”

She shuffled over to the lovingly crated box that contained the three works she hadn’t been able to sell at the gallery. The gallery.

Her stomach churned, but she put aside the bad stuff. If she told Stef she’d had a bad dream about that place last night, he’d have that doctor back checking her for signs of PTSD. She concentrated on the good stuff. “I sold some paintings while I was in Dallas.” She hadn’t sold anything while she was in Bliss. Stefan was a world-renowned artist, but she was just starting out.

“Really? That’s great, Jennifer. I told you that would happen when you concentrated,” he murmured, a little smile on his face.

“You have a great eye and a way with colors.” Jen pulled out the first of the three paintings she had left in her apartment. She set it on the easel. It was the last one she’d finished, with its glorious rushes of green and that shadow of a man. It was the painting she’d redone because she wasn’t happy with the colors.

Funny, they seemed perfect to her now.

“I’m going to give this one to Rachel.” Jen had decided that Rachel needed a baby gift from her. Callie said Rachel had been inundated with baby clothes, and Max and Rye had purchased every safety item known to man. Maybe Rachel would enjoy something to brighten the house. “I missed her shower. This has to be better than what Nell gave her.”

Nell and Henry had given her a gift certificate to offset the baby’s carbon footprint for the first year of life. Nell had purportedly explained that Rachel was on her own after that and had given her a lecture on green diapering practices.

“I think she’ll love it,” Stef said with an indulgent smile on his face.

A sense of satisfaction poured over her. Maybe if she told him more about her sales, he would see that she was really concentrating on her work. “And, who knows, maybe it’ll be worth a lot someday. I got five thousand for the three I sold. Let me tell you, that came in handy.”

Stef’s face got a bright, brilliant red. “That fucker. I swear if he wasn’t already dead, I would kill him myself.” Jen turned to him. “What are you talking about? Who’s dead?” Stef stopped, a red flush spreading across his face. “Renard. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now.”

“Whoa.” She didn’t like the man, but she was surprised he was dead. He’d been a halfway decent mentor until he’d thrown her in jail.

A chill went through her. “Is it over the painting?” Stef nodded and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Probably. The police found his body yesterday. They think he was involved in a drug deal gone bad. He was apparently paying for some cocaine with the painting. I don’t want you to worry. You’re safe here.”

As she had no idea where the painting was, she wasn’t terribly worried. But something else struck her. “Why are you upset that Renard sold my paintings?”

Stef sputtered, his normal grace deserting him as he seemed to realize he’d made a mistake. “Nothing. I was just surprised.” Her smile slipped away completely. “You bought them.”

It felt like a crushing defeat. She’d gone about in a haze after the sale of the first one. After the second two, a confidence had settled over her. Now that was stripped away. She hadn’t really accomplished anything. Stef had merely stepped in and played god again. Deus ex machina. That described Stef. He played god and then left her alone again.

She slid the painting back into the crate. “Maybe I’ll just get her something else.”

“Jennifer.” He strode across the space between them, filling her senses. “It was the only way I knew to take care of you. And I paid way more than five thousand. I gave him twenty because I wanted you to be okay. I wanted you to have the things you needed.” Those damn tears were back. She fought hard not to shed them.

She crossed her hands over her chest. “I needed you, Stef. You weren’t about to give me that. You won’t give me that now, either, will you? You’ll follow me across the country and pay way too much for paintings no one gives a damn about. You’ll move heaven and earth to get me out of jail, and you’ll toss me over a desk when you get a little horny, but you won’t tell me you love me.” His jaw hardened. “Jennifer, don’t make more of last night than there was. And don’t make more of our relationship. I’m attracted to you. You’re submissive, and I’m a Dom. It’s inevitable that we would be together when we’re living so close together. But this is a D/s partnership, not a love affair.”

A weariness stole over her. Could she really fight him? How long and hard would he fight before he got over his fear? Maybe he wouldn’t ever get over it. He loved her. She felt it, but it didn’t matter if he never accepted it. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t good enough to risk his heart for. “Fine. It’s just sex. Got it.” He sighed, the hardness flitting away. “Jennifer, does it have to be like this? Can’t we be friends? I like you. I think you’re an amazing artist. I think you have a bright future, if you concentrate. You don’t have to be stuck here. You could be in New York selling in galleries.”

He was always pointing out the future he thought she should have.

He didn’t ask her opinion. He merely stated what he considered the best possible future for her and pushed her to take it.

“Great, I’ll look forward to it,” she said, stepping away from him.

He really did treat her like a child. He’d told her he wouldn’t mentor her then did it at every opportunity with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to go to New York. It didn’t matter that she could see herself being perfectly happy selling her stuff to the tourists who came through Bliss. Stef had decided what her future should be, and he wouldn’t let a little thing like the fact that she loved him mess that up.

His dark hair was shaking slightly. It was just the tiniest bit overgrown, curling a little around his ears. He was so masculine compared to the metro guys she’d been around in Dallas. “I wish I could help you settle in, but I have to meet Rye. I have to help him set up the pony rides for the kids. And I should probably take a shower. If you need anything, talk to Mrs. Truss. If you’re hungry, there’s probably a little buffet set up since we have so many guests. When I get back, we’ll talk, okay? Maybe later I’ll take you into town. Would you like that?”

“Sure,” she forced herself to say.

He ruffled her hair like he would a kid. There was an affectionate smile on his face, like he’d never tied her up and forced his dick inside her body. He turned and walked out.

Jen shivered and wished she’d put on a robe. He’d taken all the warmth with him.

She looked around the gorgeous studio and saw it for what it was—a pretty little cage. He would keep her here, and then he didn’t have to deal with her in any way he didn’t control.

And he’d been in control the whole time. Even when she was away from him, he’d pulled the strings. He’d watched her and bought her paintings and stepped in the minute she got in trouble. He’d hauled her home, and now he’d detailed the terms of the relationship.

She was perfectly free to love him with all her heart as long as she obeyed him in the bedroom and understood he wouldn’t acknowledge that he loved her back.

Screw that.

She would do the bedroom stuff, but he was already going back on his promise to not dominate her outside of sex. Her gilded cage was proof of that.

“Stefan?” a voice called.

Jen turned to see the door to the studio opening. Sebastian Talbot stepped in looking very dapper in wool slacks and what Jen suspected was a cashmere sweater. The elder Talbot was a lovely man. His hair had gone to silver, but she could tell where Stef had gotten his looks.

Of course, just like the younger Talbot, this one had problems with her, too.

“He isn’t here, Mr. Talbot. He’s cleaning up, and then he’s going to help out at the Winter Festival.”

Sebastian’s hand rubbed at the back of his neck in a sign of obvious frustration. “He told me I should stay in, as well, right after giving me a list of things to do. I don’t remember him being this bossy.”

Jen snorted as she picked up the canvas. She should repack it. She wasn’t going to work for a while. “You haven’t been around him much. He’s the bossiest person I’ve ever met.” Sebastian’s face fell a bit, but he took a breath and gave her a tight smile. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. He also knows how to find talent. That work is lovely. Truly beautiful. The colors are amazing.

It’s not Stef’s work, though. He has the best luck when it comes to finding new artists. I wonder if he would let me buy that one. It would be perfect in the new offices.”

She felt a smile creep over her face as she made a decision.

“Sorry, this one is for a friend, and the other two are going into the auction pool for the Festival. But, if you like, I do work on commission. Feel free to contact my agent, oh wait, that’s me.”

Jen hauled out the other two paintings. She would do what she’d wanted to do with them from the beginning. She would share them.

“This is your work?” Sebastian studied each as she pulled them out. He had the same serious concentration on his face that Stef got when he contemplated a new work. Sebastian Talbot was a connoisseur. “You’re very talented. I believe I would hire you. My company prides itself on helping talented artists.”

“You can tell me all about it on our way to Bliss,” she explained.

His eyes flared. “But Stefan told us to stay in.” Jen shrugged. “And we’re going to do what he says? Here, help me with these. If we hurry, we can get out of here before he even gets out of the shower.”

A smile spread across Sebastian’s face as he picked up the canvases. “I believe we might get along, dear.” Jen returned his smile. She was probably going to get into serious trouble with her Dom, but she had the feeling it would be worth it.