Chapter 6

Jane brought out the tiny espresso cup to Veronica with a fat orange scone on another plate. She wore an apron over her cream-colored blouse, the thick material already stained with various dark blotches.

“We can’t sell these so—” The blonde flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder. She’d come in not long after the firemen had left, arriving in time to hear Veronica’s speech. “I thought you’d need a bit of a pickup as well.” She tapped the cup. “Put in two shots. That should have you flying until you get to bed. Let me know if you start having heart palpitations.” A saucy wink followed. “I hear some of those firemen were damned cute. Call them back to do some mouth-to-mouth on you.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.” Veronica smiled in spite of the situation around them. “How’s it looking in there?”

Jane let out an annoyed huff. “Honestly, it looks like crap. The water damage is pretty bad, and there’s no way we’re salvaging the coffee beans—we’ll have to empty the bins and scrub them out, dry them before we dare put anything new in. Don’t even ask about the baked goods. Dan’s making a list of what’s going to have to go straight out and what we can recycle. I can tell you the first is going to be a hell of a lot longer than the second.”

“Dan’s good at that.” Veronica nibbled on the end of the scone. “I guess you might have to wait a bit longer for that new store. I’m sorry.”

Jane shrugged. “You didn’t screw up the stove installation. Hopefully the buggers will suck up what the insurance won’t pay and we’ll come out even.” Her eyes brightened. “Maybe we can sue the idiots and get a sweet payoff for pain and suffering. I’m no lawyer, but there’s got to be something more we can get for this.”

“Very possible.” Veronica raised her cell phone. “I’ve already sent pictures of all the damage to the insurance company and our business lawyer. They should also be getting the report from the fire investigator. From what he’s told me, it should be clear we’ve got no responsibility for this other than using the stove for what it was made for.” She scrunched up her face. “It’s just a matter of time before all the papers are filed and all the ducks line up.”

“Have you called the disaster folks?” Jane asked. “You know, the ones who are going to snap their fingers and restore everything back to perfection by the end of the thirty-second commercial?”

“Not yet,” Veronica said. “I’m deciding who to call.”

And who’s the cheapest.

Jane nodded. “We’re doing a good job, but we really need some professionals in here. And more time. Which we’ve got precious little of,” Jane said. “We’re already going to lose Sunday. And don’t forget the damned Ethnic Food Festival taking place a few streets over in two weeks. We were thinking of collecting the spectators as they walked to and from the parking lots.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything. We’re going to be open on Monday.” Veronica shook her head. “If I have to get up on a ladder and paint it myself, we’re going to be open.”

“Sounds like a plan. Oh, sir—” Jane looked over Veronica’s shoulder. Her voice shifted from casual to professional server. “I’m sorry, but we’re temporarily closed to the public.”

“That’s okay. I was just out for a walk.” The familiar voice froze Veronica in place.

She didn’t have to turn around to identify the source of that cool, collected voice.

She’d heard it recently in her ear, commanding her to stay still.

Oliver.

Here.

Now.

She scowled inside.

Wonderful.

I need this like a hole in my head.

“I’ll deal with this. Thanks for the snack.” She dismissed Jane with a smile and a nod. As the barista scurried back inside she turned in her chair to see Oliver standing on the other side of the wrought iron fence separating the patio from the sidewalk.

Wow.

She blinked, wondering if her eyesight had been impaired somehow by the smoke inside.

He stood there wearing a long leather trench coat and jeans, the soft blue dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and a thin leather tie drawing her attention down to his belt and below.

“I’m sorry.” He gestured at the café behind her. “I saw it on the news.”

She didn’t stand up—she didn’t have the energy to. “We’ll survive.” Veronica pushed the remains of the scone away. “I’d offer you a bite, but it tastes of smoke and bitter tears.”

Oliver smiled and rested his arms on the fence, leaning over. He propped one black cowboy boot up on the iron railing. “I think it’d taste fine.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, fighting not to get lost in those deep-blue eyes.

“W-Why are you here?” she stammered. “We had our—meeting, and I didn’t think I’d see you until next week.”

Except in my dreams.

Oliver looked past her into the café. “I saw the news, like I said. Figured I’d come down and offer my condolences. And my help.” He pulled a business card from one pocket. “This is the company we’ve used for cleanups like this.”

“You’ve had bookstores catch on fire from the baking ovens?” She couldn’t help smiling.

“Not exactly.” His returning grin sent her pulse racing. “But the principle’s the same. Tell them I referred you, and they’ll give you a good rate and move their butts to get here as soon as possible.” He sniffed the air. “Doesn’t smell too bad.”

“You haven’t been inside.” Veronica held up a hand as he took his boot off the railing. “And you’re not going to. Last thing I need right now is you slipping on a wet spot and breaking your leg.”

“I usually don’t slip on those,” he murmured.

Her mouth went dry.

You can’t complain. You gave him that opening, her inner joker laughed. Take it like a man and move on.

Oliver jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a bookstore around the corner. Come take a walk with me. You could use the break.” He looked after the retreating Jane. “Your staff seems to have this well in hand. They can spare you for a few minutes.”

She stared at him. “It’s almost midnight.”

“It’s a twenty-four-hour store.” He grinned. “I believe people like to read anytime, anywhere.” He held out his hand. “Trust me.”

She froze at the now-familiar gesture.

“I’m asking politely,” he added. “Please. Give yourself some fresh air. Give yourself a break from this.” He flexed his fingers. “I’m not going to leave without you.”

The ultimatum drove her out of her shock.

“Give me a second.” Veronica downed the last of the espresso in two gulps and tucked her cell phone in her purse. She went to the front door.

“I’m going for a short walk. Going to clear my head.” She focused in on Dan, who stood there, mop in hand. “You rest up. I don’t need anyone passing out from either smoke inhalation or exhaustion.” She pointed at Jane, who was busy breaking down the coffee machines for cleaning. “You too. Grab a drink and sit down. I need both of you to stay sharp and healthy. Order in some pizza for everyone—keep the receipt if I’m not back in time, and I’ll reimburse you.”

Without waiting for an answer, she spun around and headed through the gap in the black wrought iron to where Oliver stood.

Grace under pressure.

The words came to mind as he watched her in action, making sure her employees would be okay.

A cursory glance told him the café was repairable. A new coat of paint and a few days of airing out the place, and it should be okay. He’d seen businesses come back from worse.

But they’d been larger and better financed, the losses easy to absorb and write off somewhere in the mess of tax forms.

There was the physical issue as well—tables and chairs could be replaced, walls repainted and new glass installed.

It was the public that usually determined if a business would recover or not. How many customers would return or walk straight on by to the next café.

That would take longer to figure out, and he wasn’t sure Java Jive could remain standing upright under the weight.

Veronica walked out of the patio space. She looked nothing like the woman he had almost seduced a few hours later.

Here, she was tough and in command.

He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and smiled.

None of that for you right here, right now.

He watched her stride toward him.

Is this what she looks like at the club? Because I can see why the men would come to her, Oliver mused as she settled beside him on the sidewalk. She’s got power and control pouring out.

But it’s not who she really is.

Later, he’d concentrate on breaking through that façade and helping her find herself. Right now, Veronica needed some comfort and company.

And maybe a bit of business advice.

He made the first move, pushing himself away from the fence. She followed his lead and matched him step for step.

“When do you plan on reopening?” He tucked his arms behind his back as they strolled down the sidewalk.

“Monday at the latest. God willing tomorrow, but I know that’ll be a stretch. We need to repaint, and most people dislike smelling fresh paint with their hot coffee and croissants. Fans can only do so much, but we can place some air deodorizers around to minimize the stink.” She walked beside him, tall and proud. “We’ll survive.”

He noticed she wore the same outfit he’d seen her in earlier. The leather jacket he’d so recently manhandled lay loose on her shoulders as she kept pace.

Oliver slowed his walk, sensing the exhaustion in her movements. She was too stiff, too strung-out to take a break and absorb what had happened, weigh her actions.

Straight from visiting me to dealing with this. Talk about a kick in the head.

He flexed his fingers, the urge to put his arm across her shoulders almost too strong to deny.

But there was a time and a place to do that, and this sure as hell wasn’t it.

Veronica would shrug it off and yell at him, curse and walk back to her store and work herself into an overtired frenzy.

He knew because he’d seen it before with his work associates. Some of them had to be sent on mandatory vacations and ordered to relax.

Veronica was cut from the same cloth. But she’d have to be to make this business work, and she had every intention of making it.

Oliver recognized this because he had that drive as well.

Except he had some place to release the tension, to let the stress out.

Veronica thought she’d been doing that playing at being a Domme.

Now he knew it was a false reality she’d constructed for herself to maintain the need of being in control.

He had to get past that, and this was the first step.

Except, of course, it was violating one of the main rules Hooded Pleasure had.

No contact with the clients outside of the sessions.

True, there were accidents, public meetings beyond anyone’s control, such as a random visit to a coffee house or a restaurant, but for the most part, he should be staying as far away from Veronica as possible.

But this was a special case. He’d already argued it in his mind on the way down in the car, preparing his logic in case Wendy found out and called him on the carpet.

I’ll have to do things differently.

He wasn’t sure how far he could push that theme before getting burned.

Oliver glanced at the woman beside him. The tension in her jaw, the hard look told him she was too wired, too tired and right on the razor’s edge of losing it.

You need to give your control away before it burns you up from the inside. And I’m the man to teach you how to do that.

They turned the corner, and the bookstore loomed in front of them.

The giant illuminated brown tree sat atop the front doors, the neon lights outlining the tiny branches spreading from the trunk. One hung low, the green leaves sheltering a little girl as she sat and read from a book in her lap.

“According to my father, this design came to my grandmother in a dream.” He led her closer. “She told my grandfather the next day, and he immediately put it into production, wiping everything else off the board. They were big believers in following their dreams.” He turned to look at her. “The experts said it wouldn’t fly, it wouldn’t appeal to people. They were wrong.”

Veronica sucked in her breath at the sight.

“I’ve never seen it lit up. It’s beautiful. I don’t come over at night,” she murmured as they headed toward the three story structure. “To be honest, I don’t come over at all.”

“Don’t like to read?” He looked at the glowing green lights, automatically checking for any burned-out bulbs.

“I don’t have the time,” she confessed as they came up to the large double doors. “I usually have an e-book on my phone and dig through until I need to get another one.”

“That’s too bad,” he murmured. “There’s nothing like curling up in bed with a good book.” He winked at her. “Until you want to turn the fantasy into reality.”

Her cheeks reddened, and he knew he’d sent her as far from the burned-out café as he could.

Let’s keep on going.

“Well”—he held the door open for her—“let’s get you re-acquainted with the ancient medium of paper.”

She hesitated, pausing before crossing the threshold.

For a second he thought she was about to bolt, run back to her café.

“Problem?” Oliver asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

I’m going to make you relax if I have to tie you to a chair.

That thought had him running the palm of his free hand against his side, rubbing out the itch threatening to travel south to his groin.

“Isn’t it against the rules for you to hang out with me when we’re not—” She made a fluttering gesture with her hands.

“Maybe,” he confessed. “But this isn’t a date. This is one business professional talking to another as equals.” He waved her in. “And I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Her laugh as she brushed by him made him smile.

Now she’s worried about the rules.

He resisted a classic eye-roll as he fell in behind her. “What do you like to read?” Before she could answer, a young woman trotted up to greet him. Her light-blue blouse and black skirt was accentuated with a brilliant purple/blue/red scarf tastefully curled around her neck.

Oliver suppressed a sigh. “Hello, Eloise. Working the night shift?”

The brunette toyed with her glasses. “Yes, sir. Pleased to see you here. Can I get you anything?” Judging from the breathless tone in her voice, she’d been in the back with Montel again, exchanging kisses while pretending to shelve books.

He wasn’t totally oblivious as to what went on in his store.

“I’m fine. But I wouldn’t mind a look at the day’s sales before I leave. Get the numbers and come find me later.” He twirled a finger in the air. “I’ll be walking around checking out the displays.”

She spun on sensible flat shoes and headed for the back of the store.

That’ll keep her occupied for a bit and away from Montel.

“Is she in trouble?” Veronica asked. “You sounded annoyed.”

“You picked up on that?” He turned to her, surprised at her sensitivity.

“I know pissed-off when I hear it,” she replied. “You’re not happy with something. And since you were fine until we walked in here—” She gave him a knowing look.

Oliver looked after the retreating manager. “Not yet. I don’t mind if she wants to date one of the employees, but smooching on company time isn’t good business.”

She frowned. “How can you tell?”

He tapped his temple. “Observation. Her pupils are flushed and dilated, her lips swollen from a good strong kiss. I’ve seen the same reaction from Montel when I’ve dropped in before. Given they work the same shift, I don’t think it’s a wild jump of logic to assume they’re dating.” He touched the side of his neck. “She’s also taken to wearing brightly colored scarves. My bet is it’s to hide lovely little hickeys from prying eyes.”

“Hmm.” Veronica nodded her approval. “Good catch.”

“It’s part of a Dom’s job.” He looked at her. “A good Dom picks up on the smallest details about a sub. It’s a way of finding out what they want and how they react to something, anything. It doesn’t have to only be in a playroom.” He moved in on her, close enough to whisper. “It can be out here in the open, in public. I know what you want, what you need. And how to give it to you.”

He heard her breath catch, just a fraction of a second as it had back in her apartment.

The mental shutters fell before he could react, closing him out.

“So you know what I’m supposedly thinking.” She arched a single eyebrow, the sarcasm clear in her words.

Oliver caught the tremble in her voice, the snark in her reply hiding her true feelings.

You’re interested and intrigued.

I’ll keep that in mind for next week.

“Yes and no. I could tell you were stressed out from your shallow breathing back there at the café. Understandable, since your business just got a kick in the balls.” Oliver drew a single finger down her cheek. “But here it’s slowed, back to normal. That tells me you like being with me. Your body is telling me it needed that break, that time away.” He smiled. “Listen to yourself.”

It was a calculated gamble, an attempt to bring her out of her shell.

He lost.

She snapped her head back and stepped away out of reach. “Thanks for the walk, but I’ve got to get back to the store. If I’m not there—”

“What? What’s going to happen?” he asked. “You gave orders to your employees, and they’ll either carry them out or not. If they don’t, you fire them and put in those who will listen and perform.” He thumped his fist into his palm. “There comes a point when you have to walk away and let them run the place.” The realization hit him hard. “You really can’t give up control for a minute. Look, if you don’t learn to let go, it’ll shred you inside.” Oliver lowered his voice. “I’ve seen people burn out. It’s not a pretty sight. I don’t want that for you.”

“I can’t afford to let go.” Veronica glared at him. “You grew up with all this.” She swept her hand around. “You had everyone listen to you because of your father, because of the family business. You’ve no idea what it’s like to build a business from scratch.” Her chest heaved as she drew short sharp breaths, punching him with her words. “Doing the research to find a good location, finding the right people and fighting all the way because over half the men you meet figure there’s a man behind you and you’re a talking puppet for the real power broker.” She jabbed a finger at him. “You’re used to giving orders and having them obeyed. Imagine a world where you have to fight for every word, every syllable, because even though you graduated at the top of your class, you’ve got to prove yourself at every meeting, every discussion, because you don’t have a penis.”

She stopped, catching herself. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

Her face was flushed, and sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cool air being piped into the store.

Oliver nodded. “I understand. I’ll see you later.”

There was no nice way to back out of this conversation.

She gave him a brisk nod and walked out of the store back into the night.

So much power, Oliver thought to himself.

So much fear.

If I don’t help her she’ll burn up and out like a supernova.