Triple Play

“Do I look like a locksmith to you?”

“Are they the fake plastic ones? Because, if so, they should have a release button that enables them to just be snapped open.”

Her jaw fell. “And you would know this...how?”

“Who doesn’t know that?”

“I didn’t know that.”

He tsked. “Never played cops and robbers as a kid, huh?”

Yeah, right. She’d just bet that was how he’d discovered release buttons.

He sure discovered your release button.

She ordered the sassy mental voice in her head to shut the hell up, even as her brain flooded with images of how he’d found the most vulnerable spots on her body and plucked them like a virtuoso fingering the keys of his instrument. She’d been so sheltered, with no adult female influence throughout her teenage years, that she hadn’t even been sure where her clit was until Rand showed her. Oh, God, had he shown her that one night when she’d been a wild child, rather than a good girl.

Being wild had been spectacular. But it had also caused a whole lot of misery. So she’d gone back to being a good girl, never tempted to push the limits with any other guy. And that seemed to be just fine with the men she’d dated, all of whom were okay with nice, quiet, reserved Emily who didn’t get on the floor and wag her fanny at them, or call them jerks or tell them to shut up.

God, why was Rand always able to get her riled up like this? More important, why did part of her love being riled up?

“I certainly never played games with real handcuffs,” she finally replied.

“So you think they’re real, not plastic?”

“Must we talk about the handcuffs?”

“Let’s just say you’ve aroused my...curiosity.”

“Well, you’re welcome to satisfy your...curiosity once I’m out of here. Despite the faux fur lining, they are not toy handcuffs and they’re still dangling from your headboard.”

“Fur-lined but still real? I doubt it. Show me where they are and I’ll try to open them.”

She rolled her eyes, wondering if he believed her a total sucker. Then again, her boss had made it pretty clear that she had to make Rand happy. If word got back to Dawn that a pair of handcuffs had been left for a valued customer to find and a staff member had refused to help remove them, the general manager would make good on her threat to fire Emily.

“Fine,” she snapped, heading toward the bed. He followed her, and she forced herself not to dwell on his being behind her. She didn’t want to remember the wild, angry, erotic thoughts she’d been having as she crawled out from under the bed, torn between humiliation, fury and the same crazy desire she’d felt for Rand from the day they’d met.

Dropping to her knees on the bed, close to the headboard, she bent over and reached her hand between the frame and the mattress. The metal cuffs dangled near the bottom of one slat, and she hooked her fingers into the free cuff and began to tug the set up. “I tried to open them from up here but it’s a pretty bad angle, which is why I was under the bed when you arrived.”

“I see.”

She looked over her shoulder and found him eyeing her backside. Yeah, he saw all right.

“Didn’t you get enough of an eyeful a little while ago?”

“No such thing as enough of an eyeful at something that great.”

Again torn between the anger and embarrassment and pleasure reactions, she turned and plopped her butt on the mattress. He sat beside her, watching as she drew the cuffs up the slat. Metal jangled as she lifted them as high as they would go. He reached over her lap and took the wrist cuff from her, which left both their hands hovering over her lap.

Heaven help me.

He examined the cuffs, testing the weight and the locking mechanism. “Pretty real, I’d say. There’s no matching one on the other side?”

Confused, she scrunched her brow.

“Well, one set wouldn’t do you much good. Unless you could somehow attach the chain part to the bed, leaving both wristcuffs free to be used.”

Now she got the picture. Oh, boy, did she ever get the picture. Being kept helpless on the bed, both hands restrained, able to do nothing but accept the pleasure a lover—Rand—wanted to give her...what woman wouldn’t immediately let her imagination drift?

But she couldn’t afford to drift and she certainly couldn’t afford to imagine. She wanted to get off the bed, remembering all too well that the last time she and Rand had been together, it had also been in a bed. A much smaller one, in a faraway state, but she’d certainly never forgotten the incident.

Unfortunately, his cuff-laden hand still blocked her path. If she lunged up, she’d be pushing her hips up against him in a way that would say anything except get off me.

“Wait a second,” he said. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key chain that held a small utility knife. “Hold the cuff while I try to open the lock. If I can figure out how this side opens, I can climb under to get the attached side.”

That made sense, she supposed. No use breaking a wrist trying to open the attached side by shoving his big, powerful arm down behind the mattress. And no use crawling under the bed until he knew if it could be done. “Okay,” she said, watching as he bent to the task.

“You’re absolutely sure there’s only one set attached to the bed?”

“There’s only one.” The other one was in the bathroom drawer. “Even one is too many. Handcuffs definitely aren’t a hotel perk.”

“No, I suppose not. Glad you spotted them,” he said, an amused twinkle in those green eyes.

“I was double-checking the room to make sure it was ready for a guest; this one is usually not rented.” Realizing she hadn’t totally explained, she added, “I work here.”

“I know.”

Obviously he’d figured it out from their conversation and her attire. Yet, something in his expression made it seem like more than that, as if he’d been aware of that even earlier.

Ridiculous. He couldn’t have.

“Small world,” he said.

She grunted. “Too small.”

This had to be the most unlucky coincidence anyone had ever experienced. Okay, maybe getting engaged to a guy and then finding out you were twins separated at birth would be worse. But this was pretty damn bad.

“It’s been a long time, Em.”

“Not long enough.”

“Ouch.”

She was being bitchy, but she couldn’t help herself. Of course, considering that she hadn’t heard word one from him in years, even after the way they’d spent their last moments together, he deserved a little bitchiness.

In fairness, she’d been young and stupid and had instigated something she wasn’t ready for. She’d blamed herself a lot over the years for the way things had turned out. But Rand’s hands weren’t lily white. His falling-out with Seth hadn’t been entirely her fault.

“How’s your brother?” he asked, as if reading her mind.