She had a moment of relief that Ronin wasn’t unaffected by what’d happened between them.
Knox stood. “So think about it.” He handed her a business card. “Call me either way.”
“I will.”
“I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.”
• • •
AFTER two restless days and two sleepless nights, Amery called Knox on Friday morning and agreed to go to the club. And she told him to make sure Ronin knew she’d be in attendance.
That decision made, she tackled the next one on her list.
She’d been vacillating about agreeing to work on Cherry Starr’s project, given the erotic subject matter. She didn’t want to alienate her existing clients, some of whom were religious organizations.
On the other hand, broadening her job opportunities made good financial sense, especially in this economy. Besides, she could call that branch of her design company something else. Like Hard-time Designs. Or Hard-up Designs. Or Hard-on Designs. She snickered at the last one, opened her e-mail, and started to type.
Cherry,
Again, thanks for your honest and informative response. I’m very interested in helping create a sexy cover for your book. If you want to send me the parameters for the image as well as what you envision for art and an approximate deadline, I’ll get started on it as soon as possible.
Thanks, A~
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“WHAT does one wear to a bondage sex club?”
Knox looked up at Amery sharply. “Ronin didn’t instruct you on what to wear?”
“I haven’t heard from him. So I was surprised he told you to bring me to the penthouse first.” She paused. “Is that part of the scene? The rope master or whatever he’s called specifies clothing?”
He nodded. “Especially if you’re being displayed.”
Displayed. That word twisted the knots in her stomach tighter. Amery almost bailed on this adventure right then.
But she knew she had to go.
She wandered to the window. Twilight sent a pinkish orange glow across the Denver skyline. “What time are we supposed to be there?”
“In an hour.”
“Doesn’t exactly give me any time to shop.” Wasn’t as though Amery could call up Emmylou and ask to borrow fetish wear. Or Chaz either, for that matter, but if she had to lay odds on who owned leather and rubber clothing, she’d pick Chaz.
“I have a suggestion,” Knox said.
“Me going naked is not an option.”
Knox let loose a big booming laugh. “Ronin would have the head of anyone who saw you naked without his permission—including mine.”
Again she fought the urge to bristle at the word permission.
“I think the reason he wanted you here is that there are women’s club clothes in storage on the fifth floor.”
Amery asked, “Whose clothes?” even when she knew the answer.
“They belong to Ronin,” Knox said diplomatically. His gaze moved over her clinically. “You’re the right size.”
“So Ronin has a type?” she snapped. “Average-height strawberry blondes of Nordic descent with small br**sts and pasty white skin?” And no backbone. “Is that what Naomi looks like?”
Knox stared at her as if she’d crossed a line.
“What?”
“You’re wrong. Naomi is nothing like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, first off, she’s Japanese.”
Why hadn’t Ronin told her that?
Because Ronin doesn’t tell you much.
“Do you want to wear the clothes or not?” he asked.
“It’s not like I have a choice.” She headed to the elevator. “Let’s go.”
Knox curled his hand around her biceps, stopping her. “The storage room is off-limits. I’ll grab a few things and bring them to you.”
She bit back her sarcastic comment about actually being allowed to choose her own clothing and returned to pacing in front of the window.
What should she expect at this club? Would she see members getting whipped and spanked? Would there be lewd sex acts? What qualified as lewd in a sex club anyway?
And where did bondage master Ronin fit in? If she was disgusted or scared by what she witnessed, would she ever speak to him again?
Or maybe you’re more worried it won’t disgust you at all.
But what woman wouldn’t freak the f**k out if her lover brought out a coil of rope and demanded, “On your knees, hands behind you”?
Amery rested her head against the glass. She was so confused about all of this. Would tonight clear it up or further muddy the waters?
The elevator doors opened. Knox approached her, holding out half a dozen hangers enshrined in plastic dry cleaners bags.
“I brought a variety. You are a guest tonight, so that will create some interest. But I’d suggest understated clothing if you don’t want to stand out.” He offered her that same slight bow she was used to from Ronin and left the room.
Amery stripped to her bra and panties in Ronin’s bedroom. She snagged the black leather miniskirt from the first bag. She hated that it fit her like a dream. Had Ronin seen Naomi in this skirt? Had he slid his hands beneath the hem and cupped Naomi’s ass?
Stop it.
But the image wouldn’t go away, now that she had a better idea what Naomi looked like—probably exotic in that Japanese geisha way—so she nixed the skirt.
The second dress was one piece; not leather, not rubber, but somewhere in between. Composed of funky cutouts that left her midriff exposed and a sweetheart neckline, it might’ve been okay except for the rings on either side of the neck that were probably meant for a leash.