After Rebel takes the lead and serves us both a drink, which surprises me, we seat ourselves on one of the two red leather love seats stationed around the table.

“I want to talk shop,” Jack says bluntly as he lowers himself into a chair across from us. “When are you planning to buy me out, Rebel?”

The sudden aggression in his tone has me looking to Rebel with concern. He sits back coolly, crossing one ankle over his knee, and adopting a bored expression.

“I see the rumor mill is buzzing,” he drawls. “I have my eye on early June.”

“Why the hold up? Why not this minute?”

“I’ll need to liquidate a few assets first. Is the deal still fifty-one percent of the shares?”

Jack nods. “That was the agreement.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Rebel sets his empty glass on the table. Propping his elbows on his knees, he clasps his hands together. “Are you still set on not telling Florence about you leaving? It’s her company, too.”

“That may be, but it’s my brainchild. She might understand financing, but you’re the visionary. If anyone is going to grow and expand the business, it’s you.”

“I’m only as good as my team,” Rebel says, and even though he seems sure of himself on the outside, I hear the subtle touch of doubt in his words.

“You carry the team. They operate under your instruction,” Jack barks. “Give yourself some credit, Scott. Christ, you graduated top of your class. You’ve developed revolutionary designs. You’ve single-handedly sent six companies operating below their potential into Fortune Five-Hundred. You understand the business, you have the contacts, and you know how to get the job done. This company would be nothing without you.”

I’m stunned. What Donnelly is saying goes so far beyond the simple programing that Rebel told me about. I feel lucky to be sitting here, privy to this information.

Pride radiates from Rebel, but for whatever reason, he’s holding it all back. I sit back and watch the exchange in fascination. Rebel is such a cocky sonofabitch, so self-assured, controlling every situation and ruling over it with an iron fist. But here, now, it’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The Rebel I know is nowhere in sight. He’s been replaced by someone who is much more subdued. Still learning, not entirely certain about the path he’s on.

I know what the difference is. He looks up to Jack Donnelly. This is his role model. I would have guessed that role was taken by his suit-wearing, tough-as-nails father, but this overweight, paunchy man who’s as sweet as the day is long, is it.

***

Jack and Holly asked us to stay in their guest room so we could enjoy an early breakfast with them, but Rebel declined. I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed.

After they had finished their business negotiations, we enjoyed an amazing meal put together by none other than Holly herself followed by attending a live showing of Les Miserables put on by a local theater.

The couple was great company. Down to earth, warm and funny. I never would have expected to have such a nice time with people twice my age, but I did. Even more, I never would have expected to have such a good time with Rebel. That’s twice now. Spending time with him outside the bedroom is fast becoming an unexpected treat.

“Do you plan on spending the rest of the night pouting?” Rebel asks from his side of the bed. “Because if you are, I’ll call a cab to come get you and take you back.”

“I’m not pouting,” I protest, even though I am. “But if you insist on being a dick, I’ll call the front desk and ask them to put you in another room. How’s that?”

“Careful, pussycat. Your mouth is flapping again. If you don’t shut it, I might be inclined to fill it.”

Lying on my back, I turn my head on the pillow and sneer into the darkness in his general direction. “I thought my mouth was what first attracted you to me in the first place.”

“No, that was your tits. Your mouth is what kept me coming back.”

I bust out laughing. “I hope that wasn’t an attempt at a pun, because if it was, it was terrible.”

“I don’t know. I thought it was pretty clever,” he says, and I can hear his smile.

The thought of it causes something inside my chest to swell. I feel so incredibly high in this moment and the cause of it is lying right beside me.

“I like you today,” I confess.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

Turning onto my side, I prop my head on my hand. It’s too dark to see him clearly, but his silhouette against the stark white of the sheets gives me enough of an impression of him. Even that limited visual manages to be imposing. Even in a king sized bed, he takes up more than half of it, his big body nearly stretching from the headboard to the footboard.

Finding his bare chest, I spread my fingers out, caressing the dusting of coarse dark hairs. “I didn’t want to come with you to Maine, but I’m kind of glad I did. You’ve been amazingly agreeable since the conference.”

“Agreeable huh?” Wrapping his fingers around my wrist, he stills my hand. “You caught me in a good mood, Josephine. Don’t let it cloud your judgment. I’m not a man who plays nice or fair.”

Taking back control, I drag my hand down over his stomach. His grip tightens as though he might stop me, but he doesn’t. “No, you’re neither of those things, Rebel. I hate to break it to you, but I figured that out a long time ago.”

“And you still come back for more,” he rumbles.

“I still come back,” I agree. Gently, my hand slides beneath the cool sheet. Finding him naked, I wrap my fingers around his growing shaft. His chest rises and falls heavily as his breathing picks up. Leaning down, I lightly graze his whiskered cheeks with my lips until I locate his, then whisper against them, “Something you should know about me, Rebel. I don’t play fair either.”

Holding him firmly in my hand, I pump him from root to tip, relishing his groan of pleasure. Then, with practiced control, I climb on top of him, fitting my naked skin tight up against his, and slowly guide him inside of me.

“Tonight,” I say, moaning around the word as he hits deep, “I want to be in control.”

For a moment, his silence makes me think he’ll say no, but to my shock, Rebel tells me, “My tie is in the bathroom. Go get it.”

I don’t know what his intent is, but I’m eager to find out. Easing off him, I rush to retrieve it. When I return, Rebel’s deep growl of anticipation ignites mine. I hold up the tie in question and purr, “Hands over your head, Mr. Scott.”

TWENTY

“Kindly untie me.”

I expected Rebel to wake up early—he’s always up before the sun—which is why I ordered room service. I figured he’d wake up as soon as I opened the door to accept the delivery, but our acrobatics last night must have worn him out.

He didn’t even stay awake long enough for me to untie him last night. So, I left him bound to the bed and used his body as a mattress.

I’m eating pancakes in bed, my legs folded, creating a cradle to support my plate. Staring him in the eye, I lift a forkful of fluffy goodness to my mouth. “Mmm, I don’t know. I kind of like having you at my mercy for once.”

His dark eyes narrow to slits as I pop the bite into my mouth. Licking a drop of syrup from my lip, I ask him, “Are you hungry? I ordered breakfast.”

“The ties, Josephine.”

“First, tell me. Pancakes or eggs? I’ve always wondered what kind of man you are. Or are you the scotch-on-the-rocks-‘cause-it’s-five-o-clock-somewhere kind of guy?”

He tugs at his bindings, testing their strength. I’m no girl scout, but I did a pretty good job and they don’t budge. He huffs in annoyance and relents. “Pancakes.”

I love when a man gives in to me.

Rising onto my knees, I fork up a large triangle of pancake and drag it through the puddle of maple syrup. “Open.”