Page 43 of Turning Back

“Busy with Quin and Rochelle.”

“So she’s really back, huh? I heard.”

“From who?” I ask. I never told him anything.

“Bumped into Smith at that little European cafe down the road. He was scoping it out for Chella. You guys are opening a tea room next door?” He nods his head in the direction of the new tea room.

“Yeah. What did he say?” I cannot even begin to imagine Smith chatting with Jordan about Rochelle.

“I told him our game was over. Started talking about a new girl I had in mind. And he said you weren’t gonna play. You and Quin were back with Rochelle.”

“Hmm,” I say, taking my snifter of brandy from the bartender. Smith is on to me. That sneaky motherfucker might even be planning something I don’t know about.

“Is that such a good idea?” Jordan asks.

“Why do you say that?”

“You know. Quin, man. He’s all in love with her and shit. You just complicate things, right?”

I shrug. “Maybe we like things complicated?”

“Yeah?” Jordan laughs. “Well, if that’s true, then why are you out? Why not kick the complications up a little? We could still have a game on the side.”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask, knowing I should put a stop to this right now. But that kiss back there with Rochelle. Damn, it felt fucking… good. I’m kinda horny.

“Her?” Jordan says, nodding his head to a woman sitting in a booth. She’s staring at us, looking very fucking uncomfortable.

“You brought her here for a night? Or?”

“Or?” Jordan says. “Your call.”

The young woman is pretty. Oval face. Long dark hair flowing over her breasts. Slim body. Very slim, in fact. Kind of willowy.

“She’s a ballerina,” Jordan says. “New. Just got hired on over at Mountain Ballet for the spring season.”

“Really?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off her now.

“She’s got a very intriguing view of what rough sex means.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Jordan says, almost sighing. “She likes to be dom, but I said, no thanks.”

“She a top?” I ask. “Fuck that. How old is she? Like twenty-three? She has no clue what it means to be a dom.”

“I know, right?” Jordan laughs. “But I’m thinking we can put her back in her place.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “If we try hard enough.”

“Sounds like a helluva fight.”

“Right?” Jordan is smiling so big, I have to chuckle.

“Well, if you can get her to submit for you, let me know. I like them highly trained.”

“Your call,” Jordan says, walking away. “But if I do get her to submit, then I won’t need you, will I?”

I watch him as he slides into the booth next to her, his hands all over her body. She stiffens and slaps his face, making everyone in the bar look over at them for a moment.

Goddamn.