Neil, Louisa - She's in Charge (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) Read online

  Pulling herself back from her daydream, she glanced at the man who sat obscenely quiet next to her, his chinos freshly ironed, his hiking boots still shiny and new. With a small shake of her head, she renewed her original decision. Another rich city guy, running away from reality for a few weeks, only to go back with glorified stories to tell his buddies at the club. As long as they were positive stories about the retreat, she didn’t care. She decided a long time ago that most of their business came from word of mouth, no matter how big her advertising budget.

  Alan refused to let himself glance at her. While making his arrangements, he had had several conversations with Charlie. In his mind, he had assumed the pilot would be an older man, but one look at Rae and he knew he must have been mistaken. She didn’t look past thirty. If the conversation he had overheard on the plane was correct, Rae loved Charlie. That special tone of her voice had given her away when she thought no one was listening.

  Slowing, he saw a long, wooden pier come into view. Several people milled around, waiting for their arrival. He noticed there were two old Jeeps waiting. Two men set about tying off the plane to the floating dock as Rae shut down the machine.

  “We’re here,” she told him, her voice lighter than he had heard it before.

  “Thanks,” was all he managed to get out. Someone was opening his door from the outside, offering him a hand out onto the pier. As he lowered himself onto the wooden walkway, he saw Rae scramble out, not quite running to receive a hug from the second man who had awaited their arrival. His stomach knotted as she embraced the gray-haired man. It took a few moments for him to get his land legs balancing on the decking. It was then he realized the man was coming toward him, his hand extended.

  “Mr. Lexton, I’m Charlie Woolard. We’ve spoken on the phone. Welcome to Breakwater Island.” Alan’s hand was grasped in the older man’s steely handshake. As he looked directly at him, he realized the man had to be in his sixties. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he realized Charlie and Rae were related. They both had the same straight nose, as well as the same baby-blue eyes.

  “Thank you, please call me Alan.”

  “All right, Alan. Everyone calls me Charlie, and you already met my daughter, Rae.” They both glanced toward the two parked vehicles, where she and the second man were loading luggage into them. “Any problems with the flight arrangements?”

  “No. Everything was fine.” He hesitated for a minute and then smiled at the older man. “Of course, I probably would have been better prepared if you had mentioned that I was to meet a female Rae instead of a male Ray. I’m afraid I made something of a fool of myself.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Rae’s always made a production about being just one of the boys. Especially when it came to her flying. Don’t give it another thought. This is your vacation, and spring activities on the island are wonderful.” He directed Alan toward the waiting vehicles. “This is Tommy. He’ll take you up to the cabin and get you settled in. Anything you need, just let him know. We’ll see you for supper, eight o’clock in the main building.”

  “Thanks,” was all he managed to get out as he watched father and daughter pull away in the second Jeep. Shaking his head, he took the passenger seat once again, Tommy doing the driving this time. All his illusions about this vacation dissipated as he kept wondering just how red and sore Rae’s buttocks were from Eric’s spanking.

  Chapter Two

  Pushing the door inward, Alan wasn’t disappointed with his accommodations. The cabin, as it was called, was rustic yet well equipped. It had a small working kitchen, fully stocked with snacks and beverages. The living room and combined dining area shared a large stone fireplace. Comfortable couches and chairs invited one to sit and put their feet up. One wall held massive bookshelves, stuffed with all varieties of reading material. A large-screen television stood discretely off to one side.

  The master bedroom was on the second floor, it, too, with its own fireplace. Its adjoining bath was as luxurious as any four-star hotel he had ever stayed in. The view from his second-floor balcony was breathtaking. It overlooked the golf course, then further out to the ocean. All the windows were open, letting in a cool breeze while the heavy screens kept out the bugs. “I could get used to this,” he mumbled as Tommy placed his bags on the wooden chest at the end of the bed.

  “Anything else I can get for you, Mr. Lexton?” Tommy asked.

  Alan roused himself from the view. “No, thanks.”

  “Supper at eight. The course is empty about now if you want to get in a few holes,” Tommy added. “There are carts at the shelter. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, use any of the white telephones you’ll find around the island.” Tommy hesitated and then went on. “I’m heading past the first tee. Shall I bring your clubs down?”

  Alan thought to relax for a few hours before their evening meal and then changed his mind. The breeze coming off the water was calling him. “Actually, I think I’ll go with you. I should have time for nine holes before supper.”

  “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting at the Jeep.” Discreetly, Tommy backed out of the room. Alan didn’t bother to change. Instead, he felt the outside calling to him once again. In the Jeep, Tommy gave him a glossy, printed map of the island. It showed all the cottages, the main lodge, the golf course, and hunting grounds. It was also very specific to reinforce the retreat rules and regulations as well as the safety guidelines for the hunting areas. Pulling up at the shelter near the first tee, Alan thanked Tommy for the ride, offering him a healthy tip for his time, surprised when it was turned down.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lexton, but all gratuities are included.”

  Alan took his time changing into his golf shoes and surveying the area before heading to the first tee. He was impressed with the course as he played leisurely without others around him. It was just after six when he finished the ninth hole and decided he’d had enough.

  It was a beautiful course, one he knew he’d enjoy over the next few weeks. But now, he was tired and hungry. He rode one of the carts back to his cottage, showered and changed, then headed back to the course. Leaving the cart, he walked through the winding paths to the main lodge building.

  Alan had seen a photograph of the structure on their website, but wasn’t prepared for the grandeur that he found. Once inside, he was greeted by a friendly young man and shown into the main living room. There, a fire blazed in the hearth that occupied the entire far wall. It centered the room. Several clusters of seating were arranged around it. Charlie was standing, his one arm propped on the mantle, talking animatedly to several men sitting around. Several white and tan springer spaniels lay near the fire. One large, white Labrador took up most of the space. He only raised his head a few inches from the floor as Alan approached. Apparently he passed inspection, and the dog put his head back down with a light thud on the pine flooring.

  “Alan, come and join us. What will you have to drink?” The same young man who met him at the door appeared and took his order. He was introduced to the men sitting nearby. Charlie included him in the conversation, telling him about the adventure the other men had that morning on their hunt. Filling his pipe, but never lighting it, Charlie was like an honorary mayor of the island, keeping everyone entertained. He reminded Alan of what Harrison Ford’s character of Indiana Jones might look like when he was older and retired. He had sun-worn skin, and his quick wit kept everyone’s attention. Alan watched them converse until they were informed that supper was ready.

  Charlie seated Alan next to him at one of the long trestle tables in the rustic dining room. As the room filled, he greeted everyone in turn, introducing them to Alan. Several middle-aged women appeared, serving their meal family style. Large bowls of whipped potatoes and vegetables were set about the table. Another followed with several baskets of warm rolls. A large roast beef was brought out and placed on a rolling cart beside Charlie. He proceeded to carve the roast and served it to his guests, all the while keeping the conversation ali
ve. The room held an energy as Charlie regaled them with stories of the old days. In the low lighting, Alan looked around him, seeing not only groups of hunters, but couples who came together, the women probably for the spa, their mates for the golf.

  Alan hadn’t realized how quickly the time had gone by. It was almost ten before he pushed away from the table, his appetite gone from the exquisite food he had been served. He couldn’t remember when he had enjoyed a meal so much. He declined an offer to hunt in the early morning, opting for a full morning of golf instead. As he wandered the lighted path back toward his cottage, he wondered where Rae was. She hadn’t joined them for the meal. Back at his place, he turned on the world news after taking several minutes to figure out how the satellite remote control worked. His intention had been to listen to the broadcast, then get some sleep. He had been up before four to make the plane. Suddenly he was tired, attributing it to the travel and the heavy meal. The three glasses of wine he had consumed with it had helped to relax him. Snuggling back in the corner of the couch, he kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on the coffee table. When the news went to commercial break, he closed his eyes, waiting for the sports and weather. It was in almost that same position that he woke early the next morning. Stretching to work out the kink in his neck, he realized he had slept through the night, something he hadn’t done for years.

  Waiting for the coffee to brew, Alan thought about Rae, wondering if he had been able to find a way to ask where she was during the meal, what the answer would have been. Maybe she didn’t dine with the guests, or maybe since she was away, she had work to do. Or maybe she had a mate on the island he knew nothing about. The thought displeased him. He wasn’t sure why at first, and then he felt the stirring and knew why. He was simply attracted to her. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to become involved with a woman. When he and Laura first separated, she had reinforced it was due to his work habits. After that, he found it easier to push his energies into the job. It didn’t disappoint him. It did, however, effectively cut him off from most of the outside world.

  When Alan had surfaced several years later, ready to get on with a private life now that the company was flourishing, it wasn’t the same. He was no longer the college athlete that just had to walk into a room to get attention. The whole science of dating had changed. He didn’t know the rules, and thought they were ridiculous as he learned them, choosing to refrain from the whole situation. He put his energies back into the company, something that never failed him.

  He had grown tired of the fix-ups his friends assured him would be fun. While they were mostly nice women, he just never felt any spark from them. Pushing forty, most saw him as a good marriage candidate, and he might have been if he had found the right woman. He never did, but there was no shortage of new applicants.

  His problem now, he knew, was since he had sold his business, there wasn’t any company to go back to. Wealthy beyond any dream he had ever considered, he couldn’t figure out what to do with himself. The stirrings he was feeling while thinking about Rae Woolard were an encouraging sign. A small smile crossed his lips when he realized for the forty-seventh time that this was a vacation, his first in a long time. He should take everyone’s advice, just relax, and enjoy it. He would do just that, as soon as he figured out how.

  Working on his swing on the back nine, Alan was enjoying the solitude of the course. It was unheard of at his club to tee off alone. It simply wasn’t done. This morning, he had been given an option of joining several guests for a round or having a second cup of coffee after breakfast and heading out alone. He’d chosen the coffee and the freedom of the course. He skipped lunch, wasn’t used to a large breakfast. Back at the shelter, he was off to one side, hitting a bucket of balls, when he heard the horse approaching. From the distance, he couldn’t tell who rode the large, tan beast. As they neared, he missed the ball completely, almost tumbling as his swing followed through without impact.

  Trying not to laugh, Rae slowed the horse from its trot. Laughing at the guests wasn’t good form, she reminded herself. Today, in his crisp golf clothes, her opinion hadn’t changed. While he was attractive, it was his dark hair and eyes that she was drawn to. Eric had been fair skinned with blond hair. Alan Lexton was the exact opposite. His six-foot frame carried him well. Broad shoulders narrowed to a slim waist, then flowed into long legs. As he swung the club, she noted how the material of his pants pulled over his thighs. His typical executive haircut gave him a sharp edge, and Rae found herself wondering what he would look like by the end of the week. She had seen it with each group that arrived.

  The first day, they remained formal, businesslike. The second day, they would forgo shaving. By midweek, they usually began to grow a beard and loosened up a little. Many a day as she returned visitors to the Jacksonville Airport, she wondered what the remarks would be upon their arrivals home. How many would keep the beard or mustache? How many wives would insist they shave before anything else? How long did it take these high-powered executives to get haircuts before returning to their normal lives? In her own mind, she figured not more than one or two ever made it past the first day back at work before being groomed. Approaching Alan, she figured he’d be the same.

  Charlie had e-mailed her that she had a passenger for the flight to the island. She had noticed him on the other flight, but it wasn’t until she spotted him waiting beside the plane for her that she recognized him once again. Knowing he had started in Chicago as she had, she didn’t give him a fifty-fifty chance of relaxing while he was there. His movements were short and concise, each to maximize efficiency. She could have turned the horse down the other path when she spotted him up ahead, and she was still not sure why she hadn’t.

  Rae walked the horse near the shelter, tying his lead on a low tree branch. Then she retrieved a soda from the well-stocked refrigerator and waited until Alan had finished his swing. This time he actually made contact with the ball. Covering her laugh with the soda can, she averted her eyes when he joined her at the wooden table.

  “Cold drinks in the fridge. Help yourself,” she told him.

  “Thanks.” He came back with a similar can in hand and then took the seat opposite her. “I suppose I should apologize for my…surprise yesterday. Charlie didn’t tell me Rae would be a woman.” His cheeks blushed as he spoke, but she gave him credit for keeping her gaze. Was that why she was letting him off the hook so easily?

  “Don’t give it another thought, Mr. Lexton. Most times I think Charlie does it on purpose.” She said it with a laugh, watching him visibly relax.

  “Thank you. I just didn’t want you to think I’m stuck in the Dark Ages.”

  “No problem. Have you settled in, anything you need?”

  “I’m fine. The cabin is beyond what I had expected. Quite comfortable.”

  “Good. We aim to please. If you need anything during your stay, just let any of the staff know. We’ll do our best to accommodate you.” With that she rose, pitching the empty can in the barrel marked “Recycle.” It hit the rim, danced halfway around, then finally fell in.

  “Good shot,” Alan whispered.

  “Home-court advantage,” she told him. As she pulled the leather rein from the tree limb, he wandered toward the horse. Alan watched her vault over the large animal’s back. She came to rest centered in the saddle. He hadn’t missed the view of her long legs encased in worn denim. He especially hadn’t missed how they hugged to her thighs and backside as she swung her leg over the horse’s back.

  She was turning to leave when he spoke the first words that came to his mind. “Why didn’t you have supper with us last night?”

  Clearly surprised by his question, she turned the horse back to him. Suddenly, he was wondering why it mattered to him. He watched her for several seconds until she finally answered. “I had work to catch up on. I’d been away for a while.”

  “Oh,” was all he could manage to answer. The sun glinted off the strands of golden hair that had worked loo
se from their tight confinement at the back of her neck.

  She waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, she simply nodded, then urged the horse into a slow gallop. Alan sat back down at the table, finished his drink, and tossed the can as she had, missing the receptacle completely. It bounced back near his feet. Leaning down to retrieve it, he laughed, thinking he definitely wasn’t on his home court.

  He was disappointed a second time when she didn’t join the rest of the group for the evening meal. Alan forced himself to get into bed this second night, knowing the attempt to sleep was almost futile. He scanned the channels on the television discreetly hidden in a carved pine cabinet, found the news, and listened. Waiting for the sports and weather, he once again closed his eyes during the commercial. He awoke the next morning, this time rested, without neck kinks, amazed he had slept through a second night.

  Having caught several large fish during his morning fishing trip, Alan, along with a group from the lodge, were enjoying a late lunch when he saw a glimpse of Rae. Passing the dining room doorway, he noted she was followed by a group of foreign guests. In the distance he could hear her speaking to them in their native tongue, which he recognized as Japanese.

  Excusing himself from the group, he hovered around the desert table, taking extra care with the amount of sugar he added to his coffee, stirring it until the contents echoed a vortex in the center of the mug. Still, she never reappeared. That afternoon he borrowed a horse from the stable and enjoyed his ride around the island. He returned at sunset, just as the outdoor oyster roast was beginning.

  Most guests were in jeans and sweatshirts, having all left behind their formal wear by midweek. Tonight, he was anxious, knowing or maybe just hoping that she might join them. It was a festive evening, with food and music, conversation and dancing. Just as the evening was winding down, he saw her coming from a path he hadn’t explored yet. Again, she was in her denim and riding boots, and a heavy canvas jacket covering a silky-looking, high-necked blouse. The difference tonight was that her hair was down, lying against her shoulders in soft waves of gold.