Sinfully Mastered: Naughty Nookie Read online

  I accommodate classes and exams and study time. Do what I can to ensure they have something else to support them, teach them they don’t have to just lie on their backs because that was all they were capable of before.

  Now, maybe my fledglings are ready to fly.

  That they’ll fly alone and I won’t be there to watch them succeed makes tears burn the backs of my eyes.

  It doesn’t matter that I’m the same age as these women, that Jenna is a year older than me, I’m the leader. Their mother hen.

  I say as much to Anna. “They rely on me. I can’t just leave them.”

  “They’ll have to do without, honey. They’ll understand your situation and they won’t want you to be in any danger. They’ll be able to cope because you’ve given them the means to cope. You’re not throwing them out without a penny to their names.

  “Even Jade, who flitters her wages on stupid bags; she could sell them and use the money to support herself. They’re not the women they once were. They can take responsibility for themselves. We’re talking life and death here. The girls will understand.”

  “How will I tell them?”

  “Just tell them the truth. That’s the least you can do, and as soon as they know why, they’ll understand what you have to do. Before you, their lives were filled with danger. They’re out of practice because you provided them with safety, but they know you’ll have to hide out.”

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I nod, knowing that once again, she’s right. That doesn’t make it better. It’s so unfair.

  “What will you do?” I whisper, reluctantly coming to terms with the complete shift in my life.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about me, Marina. I’ll be fine. You’ve done good by us all. Thanks to you, we’re all in a position that people like us never reach. You should be proud of yourself for what you’ve accomplished.”

  “I couldn’t have done all of this without you, Anna. You know that, right?”

  I rest my head against our joined hands. If I am the girls’ mother hen, then this woman is mine. She clucks and cossets me, urges me to eat when we’ve been so busy; food has taken a back step. Through it all, she has cared for me and now, after four years of security, although it was of an unusual variety, my life is disappearing about my feet.

  The friendly faces of my staff would no longer be a part of my day. My world is changing, and I don’t like it. Call me stubborn, but I don’t want it to.

  My voice is garbled, a messy mixture of tears and rage and fury all mashed together as I bite out, “I hate them for this. Why did they have to ruin everything?”

  With her free hand, Anna pats my knee. “Sometimes, honey, good things just have to come to an end.”

  Chapter Three

  Four days later

  Chicago is a place I love. I’ve come to associate it with Nathan and our dirty weekends together, but now, alone, I hate it.

  The so-called Windy City isn’t windy enough. After surviving New York’s heat wave, to have to endure another one is just bad luck, and I’m pissed off enough without feeling like a mop bucket all the damned time.

  I’ve been here for four days. After I told the girls on staff and asked them to spread the word to the rest of the team, I hopped on to a plane and flew to O’Hare. The idea of having to tell twenty women the sad truth was too much, especially after I shared it with Eloise, Millie, Rosalie, and Jenna. That had been torture in itself. I’ve never cried so much in my life. My ribs are bruised from being hugged so many times.

  No, I couldn’t have stood telling all of my girls. Not in person. I called them, wished them well, and told them I’m always here for them, if they ever need me. But times are changing, the world will go on, and we’ll drift apart. It’s that, more than anything that saddens me.

  On top of that bundle of misery, Mona is pissed off at me. And I’m talking mega annoyed. Not for the reason she deserves to hate me either. She doesn’t know it’s my fault her home is no more. The instant I registered in the hotel Nathan and I always use, I called her. When she’d asked if she could stay at mine, I’d had no choice but to refuse.

  Christ, my friends don’t even know what I do for a living. I live on-site at Papillon; she couldn’t have stayed there anyway, but now? After her place is destroyed thanks to the business associates from hell, the last thing she needs is to be anywhere near me.

  I can handle her sulking, so long as she’s safe.

  I can only hope to God she’s not picking up because her cell is switched off. Not because the Russians have her.

  The thought sends chills down my spine and I grab my cell and press the speed dial for Eddie’s phone.

  When she picks up, her cultured voice barrels down the line in what Mona and I call her sexy secretary tone. The instant it hits my eardrum, I’m filled with relief. If Eddie’s safe, it’s likely Mona is too.

  “Handel & Bros Corporation, this is Edwina speaking. How may I be of assistance?”

  Up until now, I haven’t told Eddie that I’m out of town. Hell, that I’m out of state. I have to eventually. Either that, or tell her I’m going back home for a while… It wouldn’t be a lie. That’s where I intend on going. As soon as Nathan gets here, I want him to take me back to the ranch.

  I don’t need to wait for him. It’s my bloody ranch, after all. But I want to talk things through with him. I need to tell him the truth. Papillon has been a huge secret. One I’ve never shared with anyone. I need to tell him the truth, need him to advise me.

  Nathan is used to danger. He was a filmmaker in his past life. Not staid Hollywood movies, but award-winning documentaries. His topic had been Man. Man at play, Man in the jungle, Man in the tundra. He completed about twenty such documentaries, when he settled on Man at war, Man of war and Pirate at Sea. He survived Man at war and of war, but with Pirate at Sea, fate turned against him.

  Caught up in a firefight between Somali pirates and the Combined Task force sent to protect the shores from piracy of which the US was a member, the battle deteriorated into explosives being blasted when the Somalis had tried to capture the US vessel. Twelve pirates lost their lives, some of the crew from the destroyer on which Nate was posted also died, but Nathan lost his right arm. He’d nearly lost the left, and had returned to the US in a blaze of outraged publicity.

  Not that I was aware of him at the time. Current events interest me, but I think I’d need anti-depressants if I read the papers every single day. It’s just too glum and I prefer to think positively. So, when I met him, not only had I not been aware of who he is, I didn’t realize he’d lost an arm the year before.

  That’s the kind of guy Nate is, though. Strong. So strong that he can take the weight of the world on his shoulders and not break his back.

  And I need that strength, more than I’ve ever needed anything before.

  The ranch that belongs to my family is no ordinary ranch. Sure, we’re like most in that we have nearly four thousand head of cattle. But the cattle side of the operation isn’t all that goes down there. It’s a side juncture. It funds the experiments that go on at the ranch, backs the entire community of the three-hundred strong population that live on-site.

  I need him to advise me. I need him to tell me my people will be safe if I return home. For good. It’s unusual for me to ask. Normally, I just do. I guess that’s arrogant, but I’m a product of my environment. My parents didn’t raise me to be meek. I take charge and act. In this instance, I can’t if I’m going to put people’s lives on the line.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” Edwina mutters again, and I can hear the beeps as she presses some buttons, obviously wondering if she connected the call correctly.

  Jolted from my thoughts, I sigh. “It’s me, Eddie. Everything okay with you?”

  She isn’t to know that question is double-sided.

  Yeah, I want to know if she’s fine, but I also want to know if a gang of Russian mobsters are ringing her doorbell.

  I can only hope to God the women, who a
re like sisters to me, won’t be affected by the mess I’ve made of my life.

  “Marina?” she snaps. “You know not to call me at work.”

  Ever the efficient PA, Eddie has rules she likes to abide by. I’m not sure why, because I think she’s screwing her boss and he’d probably let her get away with blue murder to get between her legs.

  That sounds horrible, but Eddie is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. She could grace magazine covers, she’s that hot. Instead, she’s behind a desk. A snazzy desk, granted. Her boss is one powerful bastard, but still…with her looks, she should be behind a camera lens.

  That’s the way the cookie crumbles, I guess.

  Mona’s the same. She shouldn’t be a cleaner. She doesn’t have Eddie’s beauty, because those kinds of looks are a rarity, but Mona is gorgeous in her own way. She’s one of those women with curves on top of her curves on top of her curves. Unlike scrawny old me, Mona has a killer ass. That ass is wasted in her cleaner’s pinafore.

  I’m not exactly the ugly one of the group, but I sit a little in my friends’ shadows.

  My hair is my best feature. Chestnut brown, it has golden streaks throughout the shoulder-length strands and in certain lights, can appear almost auburn.

  With eyes the same color but made hazel with hints of green and teal, and skin a pale shade of honey, I’m one of those All-American girls.

  All cheerleading, science-fair award winning, Prom Queen-ites.

  I’m enough to make most people sick.

  “Look, I need to make sure you’re alright. And to tell you something,” I reply in answer to her pissed off snap.

  I place the phone on speaker and set it on the table beside me. I cross my arms over my chest and cup my elbows with my hands. The self-comforting gesture isn’t lost on me. I need all the comfort I can get.

  “What? Make it quick, you know I hate taking personal time when I’m at work.”

  “Has Mona called you since the fire happened?”

  Her sigh is brisk. “No. I hate to say it, but she’s being a brat. It’s unlike her, but I guess having your house burned down is likely to make anyone disgruntled.” One of Eddie’s parents was British. She lived in the UK for a few years as a teenager and sometimes, she comes out with weird-ass phrases.

  “She deserves her sulks, considering neither of us took her in. I still feel guilty about that, but I’m in Chicago. It’s not like I could get the keys to her.” Loosening the grip of one hand from about my elbows, I rub my temples with my thumb and index finger. An ache has gathered there, and I pull my hair free from the plait I’d styled it in that morning to let it loose about my shoulders. The ache doesn’t abate all that much, but there’s a slight release of tension and any is better than nothing at all.

  There’s silence on the other end of the line. “Since when are you in Chicago?”

  Yeah, I slotted that in on purpose. “Since that night,” I lie. “I got a call from my uncle. He needs me back at the ranch and I’m just waiting for one of the hands to fly over to collect me.”

  “You never told me that before.”

  Now she’s pissed at me. I grin into the receiver. Eddie has this thing about liking to know where we all are. She’s Miss Anal Retentive. Not knowing where Mona is and my being in Chicago is probably twisting her gut like a woman wringing a wet dishcloth.

  “No. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “So, you lied?” The hiss causes me to wince.

  “Yeah. I know how you freak when I have to fly out of town.” Eddie’s parents were killed in a plane crash ten years ago. At eighteen, she was left with a little sister to care for and her parents’ debts. Those two reasons are why she isn’t in front of a camera, but riding a desk instead.

  The rough exhalation of air into the receiver is telling. “Okay, I’ll forgive you.”

  Eddie is terrified of flying now. She hates when I fly out of state, which I do every few months or so. Both Mona and Eddie think it’s to visit family. They don’t know it’s to hook up with my ranch foreman.

  Chicago is a central point between Manhattan and Blue Ridge Ranch, in the depths of Montana, three hours from Billings, and a rocky thirty minute ride to Sheridan—the heart of the Ruby valley. Nate has a longer trip than I do, but he says I’m worth it.

  The thought of seeing him in a few hours’ time makes my heart start to beat a little faster, but I make sure my voice is normal as I tell her another lie. “I think he’s ill, but he won’t admit it over the phone. I might be there for a while.”

  “That’s okay. You have to be there for him. Just keep in touch. Let me know everything’s fine with you.”

  “Of course, I will, honey. I wish all of this hadn’t happened at the same time as Mona’s apartment building going up like that. She must hate me.”

  “Well, if she hates you, she’ll hate me too.”

  I grimace. “That isn’t much comfort, Eddie.”

  “No, it isn’t. I’m sorry I said it.” She sighs. “I have to go, Marina. Take care of yourself, and thanks for checking in.”

  “Don’t be silly. I know how you worry. Talk later.” Before she can say another word, I disconnect the call and wipe my brow with the back of my hand.

  Not the most ladylike of gestures, but nobody ever called me a lady. I’m a rancher, by nature. Plunked in the Big Apple and city living thanks to the roll of a dice controlled by someone up high.

  Amazing how the death of a husband can make you turn your back on everything you knew and loved and force you on to a completely different path.

  I shrug off the thought, not wanting to think about Jimmy, because even now, twelve years on and forgetting his anniversary, I can still weep at the waste of his life.

  The humidity in the hotel room is hideously cloying, so much so I’ve closed the curtains to stop the sunlight pouring into the suite. Even in what I’m wearing, which isn’t all that much, I’m boiling hot.

  A pair of short-shorts to cover my dignity and a thin camisole top should be keeping my temperature down; instead, perspiration slickens my skin and adds to my discomfort.

  I’ve gone without panties, all so I can get the cheap thrill of the air conditioner wafting up my shorts every time I pass the unit. I’d do without the bra too, but I hate that feeling of the underside of my boobs touching my chest. Especially when I’m sweating like a pig.

  With a sigh, I urge myself to stand and walk over to the window and open it, but it lets more of the damned damp air in, so I shut it again. I must have tried that tactic four times this morning: it never works. You’d think I’d learn.

  I turn to glare at the room, with its queen-sized bed neatly made by the maid, light gold walls dotted with paintings and a small cluster of low lounge seats. A bubble of claustrophobia suddenly bursts in my brain. It’s a pretty prison cell. No matter who the hotel’s brochure lists as the designer, it still feels like jail.

  It’s a luxury suite. Classy, elegant, and it should be for the price it cost me. But the walls feel like they’re closing in. I’ve spoken to two people in person today. The maid, who came in to clean around me, and the porter, who brought me room service.

  I don’t want to leave the hotel. Not for safety, because I think the Russians will be watching me. Simply because there’s nothing I want to see and nowhere I want to go.

  For twelve years, I’ve blocked out Blue Ridge. Tried to pry it out of my memory banks, because just thinking about it and Jimmy, is enough to make me depressed.

  But now that I’ve opened those floodgates, I keep thinking of my home. Where acres of land surround the homestead and I can look for miles and miles and only see the cattle and the clouds roaming overhead. From the front verandah, I can see the cluster of cottages to the east where the IQ Commune is based, but for the rest? There’s a stable, a barn, and not much else.

  In my memories, it’s so vivid; it’s like I only just left. I know there will have been changes. My uncle Samuel—the man I left to look after th
e place six years back when my father died and mother took off on a hellishly long road trip—moves with the times too well.

  He might be nearing seventy, but he can make radical decisions without really thinking them through. And that is why I hired Nathan.

  After one such decision, Samuel replaced the computer system my parents installed with a more modern version. An act that caused utter chaos down at the ranch.

  Somehow, the steers—male castrated cattle—were classified as intact, meaning they had their balls.

  I had to fly over and calm down the panic. Every single bull had had to be inspected, and that alone was enough to make grown men weep.

  Safe to say, bulls do not appreciate having their junk checked out.

  It was one bout of chaos too many, because Sam had a way of courting trouble. In the end, I advertised for a ranch foreman, and Nathan had answered the ad.

  That, as they say, is that.

  In his interview, I remember him sitting there, gruff and uncomfortable. I learned later on that the accident that tore off his arm only occurred twelve months before.

  He didn’t tell me about his injury at the interview, and I didn’t notice, thanks to a wickedly good prosthetic. He only told me about his ranching background–his granddaddy had owned a ranch, and Nate helped him on it as a teenager, basically managing the business for his aging relative.

  I hired him on the spot. Out of desperation, rather than good sense. Although looking back, it is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Even if, after I learned about his disability, it had been a nightmare to sort out the minutiae with the insurance company.

  I ignored the fact that his granddaddy had only three hundred head of cattle, and that in comparison to the four thousand on Blue Ridge, it was like putting David up against Goliath again.

  I ignored the gaping hole in his resume that I later found out was the period of time he worked as a documentary maker.

  Four things swayed me to his cause.

  One, he had minimal experience, but some was better than nothing. The IQ Commune staffed the ranch, but they weren’t dedicated to it like a foreman had to be. The cattle funded the majority of the commune’s expenses, but it took a backseat to each member’s principal occupation. Every day, they worked a shift on the ranch and then returned to their own world. Be it astrophysics or topology. On top of that, he had a pilot’s license.