Yes . . . charming and rakish.
“Hello, Allie.”
Her breath stuttered in her throat. That low, smoky voice, a little bit gravel, a little bit velvet. She shivered and cleared her throat.
“Hi, Mick.”
He stared at her. She stared back, transfixed by him. She felt stunned. Had he looked this good the last time she’d seen him? The years had made him more rugged. Sexier, if that were even possible. But the warm pit heating to a slow simmer in her body was telling her it was true.
Mick.
Finally.
“Either of you going to tell me what this is about?” Mick demanded.
“As soon as you sit down, buddy,” Jamie said, carefully keeping his tone even.
She could see Mick was ready to bolt by the way he held his broad shoulders, by the hard set of his mouth.
“Please, Mick,” she found herself saying, her voice a breathy whisper.
That seemed to catch his attention. He raised one eyebrow, watching her for several moments while she held her breath. Then he pulled out the chair next to her and slowly settled his big frame into it.
God, he was close enough that she could smell the earthy scent of leather that was always attached to him, whether he was wearing one of his motorcycle jackets or not. That and the citrus-scented soap he’d always used, which made him feel a little exotic to her. But what was Jamie saying?
“You look like you got knocked around, Mick. What happened?”
It was then she noticed the bruise darkening his left cheek.
Mick shrugged. “Nothing. Fought this morning.”
“Fought?” She sat up in her chair. “You’re seriously still doing that ridiculous bare-knuckled boxing?”
He answered slowly, his gaze challenging her. “Yeah, I am.”
“That’s just . . .” she sputtered, “. . . stupid.”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Allie.”
“She’s right and you know it, Mick,” Jamie interrupted. “Although now isn’t really the time for that discussion, Allie,” he said pointedly.
“Change of subject, both of you. I’m sitting. Jamie, you going to start? Or do I ask her?”
“Can’t old friends have some coffee together?” Jamie asked, his expression challenging his friend.
“Theoretically. When that’s all it is.” Mick spoke to Jamie, but his gaze hadn’t left her face.
He was studying her. Looking for answers, maybe. She shifted in her chair.
“Mick,” she finally said, forcing the words out, “I’m sure you know I’ve moved back to New Orleans.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Don’t you think after all these years it’s about time you and I faced each other? It’s not that big a town. Especially when you consider our common . . . the friends we share.”
“Maybe so. I still don’t appreciate being ambushed. Or you using Jamie to do it.”
“Would you have agreed to see me any other way?” she asked, knowing what the answer was. Unable to prevent herself from baiting him just a little. Why did he have to be so stern with her? She hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, Allie.”
“Don’t be so damn grumpy with me, Mick. After all this time, is that really necessary?”
His shoulders dropped a little. “I guess not. No. I’m sorry.”
His eyes softened as he spoke, and it melted the anger she’d been carrying around. A bit, anyway.
He turned to Jamie. “Since you set this meeting up, I figure you have an agenda, buddy.”
Jamie nodded. “Do you want a coffee first?”
“I want answers first.”
“Fair enough.”
“Please don’t be mad at Jamie,” Allie said. “I made him do it.”
“And I’m sure a delicate thing like you twisted his arm real hard.”
She reached out to lay her hand over his. “Please. Just listen.”
He yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned, and she blinked away the hurt she knew would be shining in her eyes.
“Shit, Mick,” Jamie said quietly. “You don’t have to be such an asshole.”
Allie heard that faint touch of Scottish accent come through, which usually only happened when he was angry or drinking, even though he and his family had been in the US since Jamie was seven.
“Okay. Okay.” Mick raised his hands, palms outward, and leaned back in his chair. “I know I’m being a bit of a bastard. You two go ahead and explain. I’ll try to mind my manners.”
“About time,” Jamie muttered. “You want to start, Allie, or should I?”
“I guess I should.” She turned to Mick. It was hard to look at him, to see the stark male beauty of his face, the storm still raging in his eyes. To see him and not touch him.
“So, Mick . . . look, I’m here, and we were going to see each other sooner or later. Probably sooner. That’s why I pushed for this meeting. Because you and I have a few things to get straight, but we can’t do that until I come totally clean with you.”
“About what?”
“About kink.”
“About what, now? Are you serious?” His voice was pure gravel. “We’re having this conversation right here, right now, with Jamie?”
“Yes. Because I need his help in explaining a few things to you. Because I think you won’t quite believe me.”
He’d gone eerily still. “What wouldn’t I believe?”
“I’m in the lifestyle, Mick. I have been for years. And I know you don’t want to hear those words come out of my mouth.”
She could see from the shock on his face she was right.
“Mick, Allie’s been to BDSM clubs all over the world,” Jamie put in, filling up the tense silence. “She’s an experienced bottom. She’s been under a collar of protection to a well-known Dom in San Francisco for three years. She knows about you and me, our involvement in the lifestyle. She’s done her homework. And I checked out her story—she’s told me the truth.”
She turned to Jamie in surprise. “You checked me out? I already told you everything. Jesus, Jamie—”
Their friend didn’t flinch. “I had to make sure, Allie. It’s my responsibility, given that you asked me to speak on your behalf. I had to know you were as experienced as you claimed to be before agreeing to do all this. Before bringing you into The Bastille.”
“Now wait one damn minute,” Mick exploded. “You are not taking Allie to The Bastille! Over my dead and bloody stump of a body. Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“I’m going with or without your approval,” Allie said, her tone low but firm.
Mick turned on her. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing at, Allesandra, but this is not happening.”
“Oh, but it is.” Anger simmered, flooding her veins. “I live in this city again, too, Mick. And you can’t deny me access to the kink community that I have as much a right to as you do. That I need. Why would you want to make me feel isolated in my own hometown?”
“If your family ever found out what you were doing—”
“They’d be just as shocked as most of yours would. By the way, I know your brother Neal knows about you. Marie Dawn told me. She knows all about me, of course. I don’t think she’s told your brother . . .”
“Jesus Christ.” Mick huffed out a breath, ran both hands through his dark, moppy curls. “That’s what I get for letting my brother marry your best friend,” Mick huffed, dropping his hands into his lap. “Okay. I guess you’re right, damn it. We just have to find a way to deal with this. Schedules or something, so I don’t have to . . . see you there. Fuck,” he muttered.
“That’s why we’re here, buddy,” Jamie chimed in. “Allie has a solution, and I think it’s a good one or I wouldn’t be here supporting it.”
“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?” Mick asked.
“Probably because you’re not,” Jamie said, his tone almost cheerful.
Allie had to suppress a smile. He really was a little bit of a sadist.
“All right. Give it to me.”
Jamie leaned forward, his expression sobering. “Mick, I’m here not only as your friend and Allie’s, but to act as formal mediator.”