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Chapter Seven

“Hello, Cynthia, do you mind if I come in?”

Maryanne Myers had been considered a catch in her younger years and would still be today. Perfectly dressed in an unwrinkled linen suit, not a hair out of place, and her makeup un-smudged—even at nine o’clock at night—she remained a handsome woman. Naturally, the eyelift and chin tuck she’d had last year in anticipation of being Mother of the Bride helped.

“No, of course not, Mother.”

She closed the door. They stood staring at each other. Many people had told her through the years that she resembled her mother, and she guessed she did in a way. Both were small boned, blonde, and fair skinned. While her mother had hazel eyes, Cynthia had inherited her coloring from her father. Two months ago, they’d had a lot more in common. The outfit she wore was one Cynthia could have borrowed, and the straightened hair was in almost the same exact style she used to keep. Looking at her mother, Cynthia realized she had dodged a bullet. While beautiful, her mother rarely showed emotion and never truly smiled. The years of being married to her father had taken their toll. That gorgeous facade couldn’t hide the cold calculation in her eyes.

The silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable. Knowing that it was probably going to be that way until her mother left, she decided to move things along.

Waving her hand in the direction of the kitchen, she said, “Why don’t we talk in the kitchen.”

After her mother was settled at the kitchen table, Cynthia sat opposite of her, purposely not offering her any refreshment. It took every bit of her control not to, because those damned manners had been drilled into her head. It was juvenile to act that way, but her mother didn’t deserve to be offered anything.

“What do you want, Mother?”

The sigh her mother let loose was one Cynthia had heard most of her life. Whenever she missed a dance step, whenever she embarrassed them with her childish outbursts of laughter, her mother sighed like that. In that one little action, she let her daughter know just how much of a disappointment she was to her and the family.

“I heard that you’re moving.”

Cynthia fought the kernel of hope that sprang to life. Was it possible her mother wanted to mend the fences?

“Yes.”

“Are you planning on staying at your grandmother’s?”

“Yes, I am.” She studied her mother and noted the nervousness in her gaze. “Why are you really here?”

“I found out from Janice Hoffmockle that you were moving. I cannot believe you did not inform us. I had to find out from a woman who cleans homes.”

The disdain in her voice aggravated Cynthia. It always had. Her mother had come from money, but Cynthia’s grandfather had earned it through hard work, unlike her father, who had inherited it. Maryanne Myers thought herself better than a woman who held an honest job. Instead of confronting her mother, she ground her teeth.

“When Father told me to leave, and you agreed, I decided that there was no reason for contacting you.”

The frown her mother offered her was another gesture Cynthia was familiar with. “So, you are going to take over the family assets in Hawaii.”

Pain speared her heart. She would never defy her father and reach out to her daughter. “They aren’t family owned. They’re mine.”

“Your father was planning on using those holdings for investments.”

For several moments, Cynthia said nothing. She couldn’t. Parents were supposed to protect their children, wish the best for them. Hers still saw her as a means to an end. She wanted to weep, but she would never show that weakness in front of her mother. Instead, she hardened her expression.

“Funny, because all along you two knew that money was mine. Was this the plan all along, or did you just come up with it on the fly?”

“On the fly? Where on earth did you learn such an expression?”

“Does it really matter, Mother? Just tell me what Father sent you here to say.”

Her mother seemed surprised by Cynthia’s bluntness, her face losing all expression. She recovered fast enough, her eyes snapping with anger, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’ve been spending time with that tramp. Have you no pride? She stole your husband.”

Cynthia almost laughed at the absurdity of her mother’s statement, but she couldn’t find enough humor to even smile. “He wasn’t my husband. He wasn’t even my fiancé at the time. Max would have been a horrible match for me.”

Her mother waved away the argument. “What I want to know is, are you going to help your father out?”

“Help him out?”

“He’s run into a bit of a cash-flow problem.”

“So, he sent you here to beg for my help.”

Her mother’s spine stiffened even more. “I will not beg you for anything. What I came here to do was appeal to your family honor.”

Now Cynthia did laugh, but there was no humor in it. The ache in her chest spread through her, chilling her from the inside out.

“Family honor? What the hell do the Myers know about honor?”

“Cynthia Louisa Myers, your father has sacrificed a lot for you over the years.”

“Not near as much as I have.”

“I have no idea why you think you deserve all that money, that land, but my misguided mother thought it a big joke. And what have you done to deserve it? You couldn’t even keep a man long enough to marry him.”

Anger now replaced the hurt and she used it to lash out. “Touché. But then, I didn’t want to spend my life married to a man I didn’t love, turning a blind eye to his affairs, pretending that everything was fine.”

A flash of something that could have been pain came and went in her mother’s eyes. Shame filled her and she opened her mouth to apologize, but her mother stopped her with a comment.

“And what do you have now? You’ve let yourself go, and for what? You have your independence, but you have no man, no one to lean on.”

“Not that I think you ever had that with Father, but I don’t need a man to support me. If I find one, one I truly love, he will accept me for who I am, and would never cheat on me.”

Her mother shook her head. “You think your father and I don’t know where you spent the night of Max’s wedding? Please.” She sniffed. “I didn’t raise you to go slumming with the first man you could pick up.”

Cynthia refused to defend her actions. She had done nothing wrong. “I want you to leave.”

Her mother’s eyes widened and then narrowed before she stood. “This is your last chance at rebuilding any kind of relationship with your father.”

“What about you?”

“I agree with your father. You have to do what is right for the family.”

The hope Cynthia had had earlier was now shriveled and dead. What the hell had she been thinking, that her mother would actually come to her because she cared about her daughter? Rising to her feet, she faced her mother squarely.

The burning ball of pain in her stomach she had not had since moving out of her parents’ house returned. She pressed her hand against her tummy, hoping her ulcer was not resurfacing. “If the relationship comes with the prerequisite that I hand over my money, I think I can do without those ties.”

“If that is what you want.”

“It’s not what I want, it’s what I have been stuck with for too long. If you all want a regular relationship, then contact my lawyer, other than that, leave me the hell alone.”

She shook her head at Cynthia. “You’ve lost any kind of manners and class I taught you. Your father was right. You are useless.”

The need to curl up in a ball and cry almost overwhelmed her, but she pushed it back, knowing that later she would have the time for that. “I’m not the one who had to beg her daughter for money.” Her mother opened her mouth to shoot back, but Cynthia had had enough. “Just go. I don’t need any more dramatic statements from you. Be sure to tell Father that from now on, not to send you to do the dirty work. Tell him to be a man and do it himself.”

With a look of contempt, her mother turned on her heel and left. Cynthia held on until she heard the door click shut and the car pull out of the driveway. Then she sat back down at the table, rested her head on her arms and wept.

Chris cursed under his breath when he dropped the saltshaker he was filling, and it spewed salt all over the table. Sighing, he began to clean up the mess and tried to get his emotions settled. It had been a bitch of a week. Three of his waitstaff were sick—flu—and he was sure others would follow soon enough. On top of that, his manager had broken her ankle and was out for the rest of the week, doctor’s orders. So, he was covering shifts, doing extra work, when he really wanted to be on the phone with Cynthia.

Pathetic. Every day he counted the hours until he spoke to her, and today it had been pushed back thanks to the workload. If he could avoid his family’s calls, he would be finished. But his brother had called twice and his mother three times, and if he’d ignored those calls, they would’ve called over and over until he answered.

“Chris?”

He turned and found Lee, one of his hostesses, standing a little too close. Since his manager, Maylea, had hired her, Lee, a petite redhead, had made no secret of the fact that she wanted to fuck him. Chris never fucked the help, it only led to disaster. But truth was, he wasn’t interested—in anyone. Other than Cynthia. He didn’t need to deal with the woman the waitstaff had named “the Barracuda”.

“What do you need?” He stepped around the table with the pretense of cleaning up more salt.

“Kaile called. He can’t work. Another case of the flu.”

He exhaled. “Do we have anyone to work in his place?”

“I called Denise. She said she can make it, but she’ll be thirty minutes late. She’s waiting for a sitter.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Lee.”

She began to turn around, but then paused, looking back over her shoulder. “Since we’re both working late, maybe we should get a drink after we close up.”

For a second, he studied her—well rounded, with beautiful green eyes, a full, pouty mouth, a pair of breasts that had to have been bought and paid for—and felt…nothing.

“You know I don’t date the staff.”

She frowned. “I don’t know why you have to be such a saint.” With that she marched away, her full ass swinging with each step.

“I’d watch out for angry women, Chris.”

He glanced over and found his friend Evan Chambers smiling at him. “Hey, whatcha doing here so early?”

“Finished my meeting early.”

Evan was a couple years younger than Chris. He’d started with nothing, just like Chris, working construction. Now he owned one of the most successful construction companies in Hawaii. With his gray eyes and golden-brown hair, Evan had captured and bedded more than one of Chris’s employees.

“We’re short of staff, so be warned, I might put you to work.”

Evan smiled, then glanced over at Lee, who was talking to one of the waitresses. “If you put me to work on that one, I’ll do just fine. Don’t you just want to bend her over and fuck that ass?”

“Evan, I can’t talk about staff that way. You know that. Did you need something?”

“Nope. I was meeting with Daniel Akita. He’s redoing the shop.” Evan sat at one of the chairs at a neighboring table, watching as Chris moved to fill another salt dispenser. “You seem out of sorts.”

“The flu has hit Dupree’s with a vengeance. I’ll be pulling some longer-than-normal days this week.”

“No. You’ve been distracted since you returned from the mainland.”

He wanted to deny it. He hadn’t talked to anyone about Cynthia. Keeping her a secret hadn’t been his goal, but his feelings for her were too new, too…raw. Talking about her would’ve revealed things he hadn’t been ready to face. Still wasn’t. Looking at Evan, he realized he wouldn’t get out of it. Having close friends was a bitch.

“I met a woman.”

Evan chuckled. “So, what’s new? Fuck her, get her out of your system.”

Chris sighed, wishing Evan weren’t so cynical, but knowing his tragic background, Chris understood. “I did. Several times.” He paused as he topped off a saltshaker. “I think I found the one.”

Evan didn’t react at first. Both of them had lived the lifestyle at one time—Evan was still involved. In fact, he was a not-so-silent partner in Rough ‘n Ready, the most well-known BDSM club on the island. He understood Chris’s problems, of his status and why he had left.

Evan frowned. “ The one? As in a woman who can handle a switch?”

As he finished up with the salt, Chris nodded toward his office door. “Let’s take this back there. Don’t want gossip.”

When they were in the privacy of his office, Chris settled into his chair behind the desk, and Evan sat in one of the chairs situated in front. “Now, tell me about this woman.”

“She’s not my type at all. Buttoned down, at least until you get her in the bedroom.” He closed his eyes as the memories rolled over him. As if she were there, he could taste her skin, smell her arousal, remember the way it felt as her pussy clenched around his cock.

“She’s a switch? The one you’ve been looking for?”

Chris didn’t miss the disbelief in Evan’s voice. He opened his eyes and found his friend studying him.

“She doesn’t realize it. But I let her lead, and I could see it. You know what I mean. Jesus, Evan, every time she took control, she got off on it.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “Does she know about you?”

“That I’m a switch? She doesn’t even know what one is, let alone that I am one, or that she is.”

“Chris, I’ll just say be careful. I thought you’d never… Well, after what happened, I thought you’d never have anything to do with the lifestyle again.”

Chris’s mind drifted back three years earlier, to Jasmine. Gorgeous, tall, dark hair, beautiful blue eyes. He didn’t look past the beauty to see the problems beneath the surface. She’d convinced him she wanted to be a switch, but in the end, she couldn’t even handle being a sub, let alone taking the dominant role. She wanted total submission—to be a slave. It wasn’t in Chris to give it to her. In the end, she left him, and three months later she’d committed suicide. After her death, Chris had found out she’d been unstable for years, but he still blamed himself for not realizing earlier that she had problems.

“I know, but it has nothing to do with the lifestyle. It has more to do with what she needs. At the moment, she needs to be in control, to be the one calling the shots. If you met her, you’d understand.”

“If I met her, I could get her into bed in a heartbeat, fuck her until she couldn’t walk, and she would forget all about you.”

Chris smiled, shaking his head. “No. Not her. Of course, if it goes as I plan, I might need your help.”

Evan nodded, and Chris knew he understood. They talked for a few more minutes, then Evan left Chris alone. Chris glanced up at the clock and realized he had just enough time to call Cynthia. With the time difference, he had to call her in the middle of the afternoon, or it would be too late when he got home.

He locked his office door and dialed her cell phone number. As he waited for her to answer, the same familiar energy surged through him, his body pulsing with it. It had been killing him to keep the conversations light. And to make it worse, for the last three weeks or so, she’d seemed preoccupied. Something was going on, but he was trying his best not to pry.

“Hello.” Soft, southern, sexy.

“Hello, chéri . How are you doing?”

She paused for just a second, as if deciding whether she should tell him something. Then she continued. “I’m doing fine. I’ve been super busy today.”

“Same here. Have a few people out with the flu, so I’m working late tonight.”

“That’s too bad.” Another pause. “Chris?”

“Yes, chéri? ”

“I have something to ask you, something I want you to be completely truthful about.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

He heard her swallow and then take a deep breath. Anticipation skated along his nerves as he wondered what could be bothering her so much.

“When you were here, and we spent the night together…”

“Yes?” His heart pounded.

“Well, it’s just that, you don’t… When you were here, you couldn’t keep your hands off me, and now you act like a…a… brother .” Again, she drew in a deep breath and asked, “Please, just let me know, Chris, are you not interested in me that way anymore?”

For several seconds, Chris didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. It was amazing that she actually would think he wasn’t interested. What was going through her mind?

“Cynthia, chéri …you know I’m interested in you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I think I proved that six weeks ago.”

“Then…yes. But it has been six weeks, and you haven’t once said a word about it.”

He drew in a fortifying breath, trying to gather his control. Just talking to her on the phone had him hard, and since it had been six weeks since he’d touched her, touched any woman, it wouldn’t take much to get him off.

“Honey, it’s just that I didn’t know when we would see each other again. So I avoided it.”

“You avoided talking about it because you don’t plan to see me for a while?” Now she didn’t sound upset but confused.

“You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me then. When you were here, you said you couldn’t get enough of me. But for some reason, I think you have.”

“Well, I haven’t. I never will. Listen, Cynthia, I can’t talk about it.” Already, he was stroking himself through his pocket. Sad and pathetic, but talking about that night, even the smallest mention, made him hard.

“Are there people around?”

“No. I’m by myself. It’s just that…” Telling her would let her know just how much control she had over him, how much she meant to him. He didn’t want to scare her away, but she wasn’t going to let it go. “If I were to talk about it, I’d have to get off. There’s just no way around it.”

He heard her breath catch. The sound was as arousing as the sound of her moans. “So, right now, you’re…”

“Hard enough to drive a nail into cement.”

There was a long pause. “Are you touching yourself right now?” Her voice bubbled with excitement, her Southern accent deepening.

Damn. The woman was going to be the death of him. He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, praying for some sort of control. “Yes.”

“You’re naked?” Her pleasure spurred his.

“No. I’m stroking over the fabric.”

Then she said something he never would have expected. “Take your cock out.”

His eyes flew open, and he almost dropped the phone. “What?”

“Take it out.”

Chris seriously thought about denying her. Definitely not the place to do this. But there was something in the way she’d ordered him that had him reacting to her demand. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pushed the fabric aside. His erection bobbed free once he pulled down his underwear a bit. He grabbed it by the base and stroked.

“Does that feel good?” Her tone had turned coy.

“Yessss.”

“Are you stroking yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, I wish I were there. I liked having your cock in my hand…in my mouth.”

Jesus . A rush of heat pumped to his cock and left his balls aching. He shifted his weight, leaning back. Remembering what was going on and where he was, he grabbed the towel on his desk and placed it over his shirt.

“Are you about to come?”

“No.”

“That’s good. I’m lying here naked. I had a nightshirt on when you called, but I can’t help touching myself when I hear your voice.”

He had died and gone to heaven. Holy God. “Tell me more. Tell me what you want me to do, what you would like to do.”

“I wish you were here. Then I could have your hands on me.”

“Hmmm.” He was getting close.

“Don’t come yet, Chris. I’m not there yet. I’m wet, but…not there.”

Oh Lord, she was masturbating with him. This was something he never expected, and for that reason alone it was doubly arousing.

“Are you still stroking?”

“Yes.”

“You know what I want? I want to taste you again. I want to take your cock in my mouth, suck you, lick you.” With each comment, her voice had grown thinner, breathier. He could tell she was close. “I’d love to have your mouth on my…pussy. Eating me while I suck you.”

He curled his toes inside his shoes, trying to hold off like she asked, but it was getting harder by the second. Every nerve in his body was on alert, the tension growing, stretching him thinner. He imagined her spread out on her bed, her hand on that pretty pussy, her fingers slipping into herself.

“Oh, yes. Yes. Baby. Chris, honey, now. Come now.”

He was already pumping himself, driving toward his orgasm. His balls tightened, his head spun. The next instant, he exploded.

“Cynthia!”

He continued to pump as he blew his load. The hot liquid landed on the towel he’d laid on his stomach as his body went rigid. Slowly, he relaxed, his muscles now weak from the exertion. He closed his eyes, his body gradually coming down. For several moments, the only sound on the line was their heavy breathing.

“Cynthia?”

“Yes, Chris?” Her voice held no embarrassment, no recriminations. Just complete and utter satisfaction.

“I would have tried this six weeks ago if I had known you were into phone sex.”

She laughed. The sound had him smiling. He had a feeling she didn’t laugh that often, and each time he heard the sweet sound, something shifted in his chest.

“I’ve never been before.”

He opened his eyes and noticed the time. “Damn, honey, I gotta get back to work. Dinner rush is about to start.”

“I understand. And I have to get to bed.”

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” She paused. “I might be out of range about this time tomorrow, but I’ll call you back if you miss me.”

“Okay. Night, Cynthia.”

“Night.”

After disconnecting, he cleaned himself up, his mind still turning over the comment she’d made at the end. He zipped his pants and discarded the towel. She’d never been unreachable before, always seemed to have her cell with her, and he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling she was keeping something from him. Someone knocked on the door, and his worries were pushed aside as the dinner crowd started to arrive.

Cynthia lay in her hotel bedroom thinking she should be embarrassed. Sweat had gathered between her breasts, her heart was still beating out of control, and she hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks. For some reason, having phone sex with Chris felt right. Two months ago, if someone had told her she would be having phone sex with a man she’d had a one-night stand with, she would have said they were mental.

She pulled her nightshirt over her head and settled back in bed. Her flight was early in the morning, and now she was wide awake. Turning on the TV, she decided to find something to put her to sleep. Eleven hours from Atlanta to Honolulu.

The last three and a half weeks had been a whirlwind of activity. Once she’d signed the papers, she’d taken over all her grandmother’s properties in Hawaii. She’d stayed two weeks in Lake Park, helping Anna with her newly hired baker.

Waiting had almost killed her, but she hadn’t wanted to leave Anna high and dry. And Cynthia needed to get her affairs in order. The people who had been renting her grandmother’s house had just vacated. Perfect timing.

She wanted to see Chris. The timing was convenient, but she’d waited because she worried about her feelings for him. Even though she had tried her best not to, she’d become attached to him and, apparently, would go to any lengths to please him. She’d never had phone sex and had never masturbated. Ever . And she had done both because the sound of his voice, the fact that he was aroused and touching himself…it had been too much to ignore. Even as she blushed, she couldn’t feel guilty.

Lord only knew what kind of trouble she would get into in Hawaii. But she was looking forward to every minute of it.

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