Struck By Lightning: Slow Satisfaction Part 10

"Is there a lot of seafood on the new menu?" I asked.

"I'll see when I get there. Chef made a lot of decisions while I was gone."

"Well, he had to if the new menu goes live in two days," I said, as I pulled another armload of clothes from the closet.

"Two days? Who said two days?" She looked at me in puzzlement.

Dammit. James was the one who had said they were going to launch on Thursday. I didn't want to get into telling them why I was angry at him right now, so I changed the subject. "Hey, you said Xavier got an angel investor to put up his half, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did he tell you who it was?"

"We don't know his name."

That sure sounded like James's style. "How'd Xavi meet him?"

"He said it was some guy he knew from the music industry. Xavi used to do backstage catering and got to know a lot of record reps and stuff."

I felt a sudden sinking in my stomach at the same time my head felt giddy and light. "Oh, really. How interesting."

Maybe James had been telling the truth. Maybe it had nothing to do with me.

"Um, when did this investor first get involved?"

"Over the winter. Maybe January? Around the time you quit."

Three months before James and I met.

I suddenly remembered James knowing my name, my real name, when we'd talked on the phone after meeting that very first time. And I suddenly felt very stupid.

He hadn't walked into the bar randomly the night we met. He'd gone there because of Xavier. James never went anywhere he didn't have an in! Of course he didn't! And after he'd left, the first thing he did, probably, was call Xavier and find out who I was and whether I was crazeb.a.l.l.s or not.

I wondered what Xavi said.

"Well, I'm sure it's going to go great," I said, sounding a little dazed or distracted I'm sure. "Have a good flight, sis."

She kissed me and Mom on the cheek. "Thanks for the necklace, Mom. I'll let you know if Pauline says yes."

"Oh goodness, I nearly forgot. Here, you have to take some of my eighteen-karat gold for Pauline, too." She put a few things into a small velvet bag from the jewelry box and handed it to her.

"Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it." Jill kissed her one more time. "See you in the Big Apple, KayKay."

"Fly safe," I said weakly.

After Jill was gone I turned my attention back to helping Mom sift through her closet. She didn't look like she'd ever gotten rid of very much, as outfits I had never seen her wear emerged from the depths. Bit by bit she winnowed down what she wanted to keep. "I figure if I haven't worn something in more than ten years, at this point it probably doesn't even fit," she said, "and it certainly isn't something I need."

She set me to making piles, then folding the clothes and putting them into trash bags. "You're not going to throw this all away, are you?"

"Oh, goodness no. There's a battered women's shelter in town that takes donations. I happened to pick up their flyer when we were at the hospital," Mom said breezily.

Happened to. Mom never did anything by accident, though she often made it look as if things were a coincidence. I took it to mean she either remembered more about Phil or she was taking our warnings very seriously. Either way, it was good for her.

I ended up taking a cardigan sweater that was a little too small for her and a skirt that I thought Becky would like. I didn't have room for a lot else in my suitcase. Plus my mom's stuff wasn't really my style. My mother had a sensibility that seemed mostly based on glamour actresses from before her time, from the Hollywood starlets of the 1940s and 1950s. Then again, my style was "poor grad student."

I hadn't thought about my thesis in limbo or the furor with Renault in days. I supposed I was going to have to start thinking about it again as soon as I went back to the city, though.

One thing at a time. First, I had an apology to make to James.

Once we got all the bags of clothes down to the living room, Mom took a nap on her once-again clear bed, and I took to texting: I think I owe you an apology.

There was no answer for several minutes, and I agonized, wondering if I had gone too far with my outburst last night. He'd told the truth and I'd flat-out refused to believe him. If I was going to be like that, then it didn't matter how deep into his soul he dug for the truth. This wasn't going to work.

I was distracted momentarily by the mechanics dropping by with my mom's car. They'd not only fixed it up. They'd also vacuumed the carpets and washed the windows. I thanked them and they wished my mother good health.

When I got back to my phone, there was a reply from James: Would you like to deliver your apology in person?

I texted back immediately: Yes, please.

Followed by: But my sister is gone and I'm worried to leave my mother entirely alone.

Not because she can't take care of herself. She's doing fine in that regard. But because Betancourt might come back.

A full two minutes went by before the reply came: Then I'll see you in the car. Stefan can keep watch.

I sucked in a breath. That made sense. When?

Tonight after your mother goes to sleep.

I nearly texted OK but then remembered, and sent Yes, James instead.

Mom and I cooked dinner together. I tried to convince her she shouldn't be on her ankle so much, and she placated me by sitting at the counter to chop an onion. With her wrist brace on, she couldn't lift anything heavy with that hand, but she could still hold on to things enough to do a lot. Thank goodness it was her left wrist, and she was right-handed. We sauteed onions and peppers and browned beef to go into pasta sauce, then baked ziti in the oven with cheese. It was everything we loved about lasagna but half the work.

I ate sparingly, though, my stomach nervous about meeting James later.

We had nearly finished dinner when the phone rang. My first thought was it could be Phil. It wasn't. It was Aunt Tera calling to get an update. "Jill said she's doing a lot better, but way to give me a heart attack, girls! How is she today?"

"Why don't you talk to her yourself?" I suggested. "Here, you chat while I clean up."

I handed the cordless phone to my mother and she moved into the living room. She and her sister were off to the races, each one talking a mile a minute. I washed the pot and loaded the dishwasher.

I finished and they were still talking, so I went up to my room to read a book.

A little while later my mother stuck her head in. "Tera says h.e.l.lo," she said, as if I hadn't talked to her myself, or perhaps apologizing for the fact that she was only now off the phone. "She's going to come visit for two weeks."

"Oh? When?"

"She's getting ready to quit her job, but to stick it to her boss she wants to make sure she's used up all her vacation time first!" She beamed, energized by talking to her sister and happy about seeing her. "So she's going to drive up tomorrow."

"That sounds great! Here. I'll go put clean sheets on Jill's bed."

"Thank you, dear."

The evening crawled by. I made up the bed, did another load of laundry. Mom watched a movie. When that was done, she finally declared she was going to sleep.

I waited until she had been asleep an hour and I could hear the raspy sounds of her snoring before I texted James to say all was clear.

He replied with where the car was parked, at the cross street a few houses down.

No other instructions. Despite that, I couldn't help but think about the time he'd had me report for punishment. The mysterious doctor's office. The delicious torture that followed.

But that time the "correction" had been for a manufactured flaw, hadn't it? It had been a game we played.

This wasn't a game. This time our whole relations.h.i.+p was precarious and I didn't want to make the misstep that would send us over the edge. We'd each made mistakes now. The question was, could we fix it? If only it could be as simple as submitting to a spanking. If only that could make all our problems go away.

I used my new keys to lock the door behind me and then walked up the street. The neighborhood was quiet, as usual on a weeknight by eleven, most of the houses dark. I caught sight of the car just beyond the tall privacy hedge the neighbors on the corner had grown to enclose their property.

Stefan gave me a small wave with the binoculars in his hand. I heard the doors unlock.

I opened the back door and slipped in before I lost my nerve.

James was sitting inside looking grave and inscrutable. Thank goodness I was sitting down. I felt weak in the knees. He was in full suit and tie, but it was his dark expression that affected me most.

"James..." I said, and it came out a whisper because my throat was so tight.

"Karina," he said, coolly, but in that way that I knew meant he was very tightly wound. "I'm listening."

"I'm sorry. I lost my head. I jumped to the conclusion the only reason you bought my sister's restaurant was to control everything in my life." I pressed my hands together. "And then I didn't listen when you tried to explain. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

He gave a short nod. "I'm sorry, too. If I had not given you reason to doubt me, I am sure you would not have. But, Karina, have I ever lied to you?"

I made sure to take a calming breath before answering. "No. You haven't. You left out some things, but you've never lied."

"Will it rea.s.sure you if I make a promise never to lie to you?"

"It'll at least reinforce it in my mind," I said. "Because I know this whole deal we have going, trading s.e.x for information? It isn't going to work if I don't believe what you say. I really am trying to give us a chance, James."

"And I am trying to be both truthful and complete."

An idea struck me then. "Let's make it a mutual promise. I... I'll renew my promise to you, too. How's that?"

I saw the relief on his face, a sudden easing of the lines around his eyes. "I'd like that." His tongue darted out as he considered. "How would you like to go about making this vow?"

The electricity in the air between us ramped up. I couldn't quite explain it. It was as if once the tension of the apology had dissipated, it was replaced with s.e.xual tension. We were doing this together. The relations.h.i.+p might still fall apart, but we were going to at least try to fix it. Together. And for all the trouble and angst we'd had, the one thing we never lost completely was that physical, chemical connection. It might have been tamped down temporarily, but as soon as we got on the same wavelength again, boom.

"We should hold hands," I said, "to make the promise. And I'll go first, since mine's a renewal, and then you can go."

"All right."

I got onto my knees on the seat so I faced him directly, and I saw his eyebrow twitch at that. I was still wearing that Gypsy-dancer skirt. I held out my hands, palms down, and he gently brought his under mine until they were clasped. Mine were trembling until his steadied them.

"I promised you once, a long time ago, in this car, that I would not lie. I kept up that promise all the time we were separated in the summer. I'm now renewing that promise to you, James. No lie shall pa.s.s my lips... Or if I have to, I'll tell you, so you can... correct me."

It was as if electricity crackled on the word correct. Or maybe that was because I bowed my head without even realizing it.

His voice was low and smooth. "And how shall I correct you?"

"Any way you see fit," I whispered.

"Very good. Shall I now make my promise to you?"

"Yes." I swallowed.

"Look me in the eye, then," he said. "Karina Casper, I, James Byron LeStrange, shall let no lie travel from my mouth to your ear. Under penalty of losing you."

His eyes were moist with tears. So were mine. Are we going to make this work, James? Are we?

"All right. We should... seal the promises now," I said.

"How should we do that?"

"Traditionally." I swallowed. "With a kiss."

"Very well." He pulled me gently toward him by my hands then and brushed my lips with his.

My breath caught, but he wasn't finished. His breath was like ozone, charged, as he pressed his mouth more firmly against mine, his tongue swiping the seam of my lips until they parted.

And then I was crushed against him, lips and body and all, as he pulled me into his arms, lying back against the door and pulling me on top of him. Every fiber of my being thrilled at being so close, his firm muscle under me, his arms around me. I was filled with a sense of belonging and rightness I had never felt with another person before.

When he let my mouth free at last, I asked, "So do you forgive me?"

"I thought the kiss was to seal the promise of honesty."

"It was. But, you know, I'd like to be sure you really forgive me."

"Aha." He looked into my eyes. "Does that mean I should be sure you were really sorry?"

I suppressed the urge to grin like a fool, because that would wreck the mood. "Yes, James. Please."

"Hmm. And how do you propose I do that?"

"Isn't spanking the traditional way?"

"Well, it is, but we're not always so traditional."

"Please, James? Please spank me?" Lying on top of him the way I was, I felt the thrum of desire shoot through his c.o.c.k when I begged. He was already hard, but my words set him aquiver.

"Straddle me." His voice was rough with desire. "Then I'll spank you."