Dena glanced back at him and nodded, a look of anticipation on her face.

Damn. She probably thinks I want to play.

Not that it would be unheard of. They had played together before. She was an attractive woman and had fully embraced her submissive spirit. He had asked himself before why the two of them had never been a couple, but never came up with an acceptable answer. Finally, he chalked it up to not being ready for a serious relationship.

Once in the kitchen, he poured her a glass of water and pulled a chair out for her.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting down. She cocked her head. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course.” He poured himself a glass and sat across from her. “What did you think of Ron?”

“He has potential. I’ve served worse.” The corner of her lip upturned a bit. “Of course, I’ve served better.”

Her sly comment drew his thoughts to the last time they’d played. Surprisingly, though, the memories dimmed in comparison with the fantasies he’d had of the florist. Unbidden, the image of her on her knees before him beckoned.

Stop! He clenched his fist. He would master his thoughts. They would not get the better of him. He forced his attention on the conversation at hand. “I think he shows potential as well. An eager learner.”

Daniel had lived the lifestyle of a Dom for over ten years, been a mentor for five. In that time, he’d seen plenty of men, and women, who wanted to become Doms or Dommes. Often, it never worked because they saw BDSM as a way to meet their own needs, to control, to exert power over a submissive. And while there was a place for that in his view of a power exchange, so much more important, he thought, was the protective care a Dom took of his submissive. How he graciously took her trust and used it to bring them both pleasure.

His thoughts once more drifted back to the florist. What would it be like to be entrusted with her submission? He pictured her bent over his table in the playroom downstairs: ass facing him, legs spread, her body willing and eager for whatever he chose to do to it.

His c**k hardened just thinking about it.

“You seem a bit distracted today, sir.”

“Sir” was how submissives in their group were to address Doms when not out in public. Daniel had given Dena permission to use his name when they weren’t in a scene, so it wasn’t difficult to see she’d addressed him more formally as a subtle hint of her interest in playing.

He needed to get her focus on something else. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” Before she could offer to distract him, he continued. “I told Ron to call you in the next day or two, so let me know if he doesn’t. I’d also like your thoughts on areas he needs help in.”

She nodded, unsurprised. She had worked with Doms in training before and knew what was expected. “I’ll e-mail you by the end of the week.”

“Anything that happened today you’d like to talk about?”

She shook her head. “Nothing stood out as out of the ordinary or unexpected.”

“Good.”

“Are you still planning to speak at the next meeting?”

Their local group held meetings once a month, generally before a party, and he was scheduled to speak at the next one. “Yes.”

“Let me know if you need help with a demonstration or anything.”

He felt the need for a long, hard jog. It was time for her to leave. He drained the last bit of his water and pushed his chair back. “I think I’ll be fine, but thank you for the offer. Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

She didn’t so much as move and her lips curled up into a sly smile. “I was rather hoping we could spend some more time in your playroom, sir.”

It would be so easy. A simple word, a slight nod of his head, and she would be his for the next hour or so. She offered her body for his pleasure and a part of him wanted to take it. To use it. To use her. But the larger part of him knew he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for the playroom. To take her there would be greedy and unwise. So he held his need in check and simply shook his head.

“Not today, Dena.” He stroked her cheek hoping to ease any embarrassment on her part. “I need to run and make a few phone calls.”

As soon as she left, he changed and went for his run. Afterward, he showered and then flipped his laptop open and scrolled through the e-mails his administrative assistant had sent him over the last few weeks. Something had sprung to his mind during his run and he knew from past experience his mind wouldn’t rest until he checked it out. He looked through all the e-mails searching for one in particular.

And there it was.

He skimmed the e-mail and drummed his fingers on the tabletop for just a second or two before sending a reply.

• • •

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me we had a gig with Weston Bank.” Julie slammed and locked her car door as she shot Sasha a nasty look. “Daniel Covington probably thinks I’m an idiot for not mentioning it last week.”

Sasha had oh so slyly mentioned yesterday that they had a meeting at the bank at two o’clock today to discuss floral arrangements for the black-tie melanoma fund-raiser in two weeks.

Sasha walked beside her. “Seriously, Jules, I’m sure Daniel Covington has no idea who’s providing flowers.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Julie concentrated on the sound her heels made on the sidewalk. She couldn’t afford to be flustered at this meeting. The benefit was a big event and if everything went well, it could lead to larger jobs in the future. Besides, Sasha had done the right thing. Had Julie known about the meeting, she’d only have worried about it. Odds were, Daniel probably thought flowers appeared out of thin air.

“You’re right. Besides, it’s not like you knew he’d be stopping by with his grandmother,” Julie said, pushing open the door. “This meeting goes well, I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Thank goodness, all I have at my place is an overripe banana.”

The front desk receptionist took their names and then showed them to a small conference room. “Mr. Covington will be right with you.”

Julie’s head spun to Sasha. “What did she say?”

Sasha looked just as surprised. “Apparently he has an idea about the flowers after all.”

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how she looked at it, Julie didn’t have time to dwell on anything. Within mere seconds, the door opened and Daniel breezed into the room. He wore a light gray suit and a bright blue tie that complemented his eyes. There was a look of momentary surprise as he noticed Sasha, but he was all smiles when he turned to Julie and held out his hand.

“Ms. Masterson, good to see you again. My niece loved the roses.”

Then he looked to Sasha and shook her hand. “Ms. Blake.”

There was a hint of recognition between the two. Julie picked up on it immediately. Neither Sasha nor Daniel seemed to acknowledge it, almost as if they had silently agreed to act as if they didn’t know each other.

Daniel waved toward the chairs. “Let’s have a seat and finalize these plans, shall we?”

Surely a vice president had better things to do than to discuss flowers for a benefit? But it wouldn’t be proper to ask, so Julie did as suggested and sat.

“This benefit is near and dear to my heart,” Daniel said. “My grandfather died of melanoma.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Julie said.

“Thank you, but it was years ago. The flowers we had at last year’s event were subpar and I wanted to ensure the same didn’t happen again. That would be why we hired you this time.”

“I assure you, the Petal Pushers don’t do subpar,” Julie said.

“That’s what I like to hear.” His smile was easy and gentle, but his eyes held a tinge of desire.

Twenty-five minutes later, they’d negotiated all the floral arrangements and pricing. With a deft sweep of his pen, Daniel signed the contract and smiled.

“Pleasure doing business with you. I can already tell I’m in expert hands.”

As they all stood to leave, he addressed Sasha. “Can you give me a moment with Ms. Masterson?”

A wary expression crossed her friend’s face, but Sasha pursed her lips together and nodded. “I’ll be in the car, Julie.”

Julie’s heart raced and she felt certain the temperature had risen in the small room by at least fifteen degrees.

“Julie,” Daniel said when the door closed. “It fits you. May I call you Julie?”

Determined not to appear as flustered as she felt, she smiled. “If I can call you Daniel.”

“Of course.” Was it her imagination or did his eyes darken as he spoke? “I was wondering, Julie, if you would be at the benefit outside of your professional capacity?”

The tickets were a hundred dollars a plate, nothing she could afford. “No, I’ll be there before it starts, but I’ll leave after everything’s set up.”

He took a step closer to her and her heart raced faster. “Would you come, then? As my date?”

Sasha’s words of warning repeated themselves in her head, but she refused to listen to them. There was obviously something, some chemistry, between her and Daniel. She’d felt it the first time she met him and obviously he felt it, too; she’d be a fool not to explore it.

Yet, how could she both set up for the benefit and get ready to attend as a guest?

The simple answer would be to book a room at the hotel it was being held at. The problem with that was the five-star price associated with the five-star accommodations. An image of her on a date with Daniel flickered in her brain and she knew she’d pay it.

“You can say no. I promise I can take it.”

Her head jerked. “What? Oh, no. I was actually just trying to work out the logistics in my head. I mean, I’d love to accept.”

“Did you?”

No. She had no idea how it would all work, how she’d manage to do everything. She didn’t even want to think about what Sasha would say. But one look into his captivating eyes, a glance at his easy smile, was all she needed.

“Not yet, but I will.”

“Would it be pushing my luck to ask you out to coffee sometime next week? Before the benefit?”

Two dates in one week? “Thursday afternoon?”

He took a business card from the papers on the table and wrote something down. “Here’s my cell. Call me.”

She would. She definitely would.

• • •

A week later, she was putting the final touches on a funeral arrangement when Sasha came through the door. It was Wednesday. Recently, Sasha had been taking a long lunch on Wednesdays to spend time with her latest boyfriend, Peter.

“How was lunch?” Julie asked. She really didn’t have to. Sasha nearly screamed “satisfied woman” the way she strolled into the shop, stopping here and there to touch a petal.

“Now, you know I didn’t eat anything.” Her eyes grew dreamy and she smirked. “But, since you mentioned it. While I was—”

“Stop it right there. No kinky sex talk in the shop. Someone could walk in.”

Julie knew her friend Sasha was a sexual submissive, and she understood a few details of what that entailed. Whenever Sasha played with a new Dom privately, Julie acted as her safety call, waiting a specified time for Sasha to text or call with a secret code so Julie would know all was well. Truth be told, even though some part of her thought there should be something scary about needing a safety call, a bigger part of her had always wondered what it’d be like to submit sexually.

“Just saying,” Sasha said. “You can always tell a good one. It’s like they can read your mind. Kinda freaky.”

“Good what?”

“Good Dominant.”

“The guy in charge?”