INV 2 - An Invitation, Ariel's Pet Page 3

  “Day three, and three better be the charm,” Ariel whispered as she turned the key in the file-cabinet lock. She'd decided to wait until the end of the breakfast rush before she implemented her plan. “Once he's gone, Al will come back.” The satisfactory thunk as the mechanism slid into place brought a smile to her lips. “Okay, that takes care of the desk, the file cabinets, and the bathroom.” The keys to each item jingled on the ring as she attached it to a lanyard and draped it around her neck. She dropped it beneath her chef's coat and shivered at the chill of the metal against her breasts. “If this doesn't give him the message he's not wanted, nothing will.”

  “Oh, I've gotten the message, Ariel. I've simply ignored it.” Dane leaned in the doorway and watched her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans. His gaze drifted over her and lingered on her breasts before it progressed past her to the desk. “I see you continue to hold the computer hostage.”

  She shrugged and stepped toward him. “You're here awful early.” A worn and faded canvas messenger bag rested at his feet. That must be where he put the keyboard, mouse, and cables he got from the kid yesterday. An image of a flogger and paddle tucked away in the canvas tote flashed unbidden through her mind. Heat stole into her cheeks, and her heartbeat increased.

  “I have some orders to confirm, receipts to input, and payroll to prepare. Per your sister's request.” He lifted the bag and walked into the room; his arm brushed hers as he passed.

  Her gaze dropped to the inked design visible on the inside of his right wrist. She hadn't pegged him as the type to ink his skin, but the design piqued her curiosity. Not that I'll be asking 12

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  what that Japanese-like character means anytime soon. “I can handle all of that once the café is closed this afternoon.”

  Before he could respond, Sadie's voice called down the hall, “Ari, we got orders!”

  “Go play with your pots and pans, kid. While I get some work done.” The flicking motion he made with his left hand exposed a second tattoo, another symbol—different from the first—

  etched into the inside of that wrist.

  She fumed at the arrogant tone of his dismissal but didn't wait around. The café came first.

  She'd deal with the wannabe Dom and her overactive imagination once the breakfast rush slowed. Her curiosity about the meanings of the body art he wore would have to go unsatisfied.

  They probably represent “obey” and “submit.”

  A smile crept over her lips as she visualized his expression when he tried to open the desk drawers. Or the ones in the file cabinets. By the time she reached the kitchen, she couldn't keep from laughing softly at how irritated Dane was bound to become once he realized she'd outsmarted him. Again.

  Dane wondered if the state of denial Logan had bricked himself up in was similar to the situation with Ariel and Alayna. All three of them had cut themselves off from their desires and their connections to the world around them. In Logan's case, he'd dammed up the dominant that resided within, and refused to admit that the past wasn't his fault. For Alayna—and to a lesser extent, for Ariel—she'd shut off the passion inside herself and ignored the sexual creature within that begged for release. With Alayna as the bait, Dane intended to draw his business partner back to the life Logan had denied himself for the last five years. There were dangers to his plan, but the rewards far outweighed them. Rewards for Logan, Alayna—perhaps even Ariel.

  If the stubborn trio would only let nature take its course.

  Dane plugged the computer into the new surge protector and switched it on. He set glasses he wore for reading and computer work on the desk beside the keyboard. The hum of the hard drive as it booted up was drowned beneath the rumbled conversation and occasional bursts of laughter from the café. He'd noticed the crowd of customers had thinned when he arrived at nine that morning, but he wasn't here to worry about how fast the tables received their meals.

  “Let her take care of the kitchen; I'll take care of the bills.” He reached for the drawer of the desk where he'd tucked the invoices the night before, and tugged.

  It didn't budge. He pulled again. Still nothing. “This is not—” Dane didn't bother to finish the thought. He controlled his frustration, reached for the next drawer, and tugged. No movement. And the same result with the next. And the next. Once he'd gone through the desk, he stepped to the file cabinets. With the same result.

  “Locked.” He pulled the ring Alayna had given him from his pocket, but the two brass keys that dangled from it were too big to fit the desk or file cabinets. It appeared Ariel could stay one step ahead of him. Anticipate his actions. Counter any advance he made. Part of him tipped his hat to Ariel's ingenuity. Too bad the part of him used to being in charge was simply pissed.

  “Damn it.” The ridges gouged the palm of his hand before he shoved the keys back into his jeans. “Twenty-seven more days of this shit.” He stalked down the hallway.

  In a submissive, behaviors such as hers were considered an asset. The Dom in him tugged at the restraints he'd put in place when he made his promise to Alayna. Ariel's actions made his An Invitation: Ariel's Pet

  13

  hands itch to take a paddle to her heart-shaped ass. Show her who was master and who was slave. Perhaps now was the time to remind the woman who really was in charge.

  Dane didn't bother to knock and give the brat any warning. Instead he shoved through the door into the kitchen that faced the office. “Where are they, Ariel?” he demanded.

  He ducked to avoid the tray of hot cinnamon rolls Ariel pulled from the oven.

  “Get outta the way, bunny boy.”

  The rack to his left vibrated as she shoved the hot tray into place and then lifted another baking sheet from the next shelf up. The uncooked pastries replaced the cooked ones in the oven.

  Ariel slammed the door closed, tossed the towel she'd covered her hands with over her shoulder, and headed for the grill.

  “Where are the keys, kid?”

  “I don't have time for this.” Ariel didn't look at him. The spatula in her right hand flashed across the grill, flipped hash browns, and then stirred eggs before she scooped pancakes up and slid them onto the plate she held in her left hand.

  At the prep station, she ladled strawberry compote on top of the pancakes, then covered them with a swirl of whipped cream from a can. The silver bell on the order window chimed under the slap of her fingers. “Order up, Sadie.”

  She didn't wait to see if Sadie collected the dish. Back in front of the grill, she scooped the eggs and hash browns onto another plate as toast popped up in the toaster near the prep station.

  She buttered the bread, stacked it, sliced it into neat triangles, and placed them on the edge of the plate. Finally she tucked two orange wedges between the triangles of toast and the hash browns.

  The bell went off again. “Last order, DeeDee.”

  The efficiency of her movements impressed Dane, but not enough to lessen his irritation.

  “The keys.” He held his hand out to her.

  Ariel glanced from his hand to his face. The expression on her face didn't change, but the glint of amusement in her eyes should have warned him. She tugged the towel from her shoulder, dropped it into his hand, and motioned to the chrome sink beside the huge dishwasher against the back wall of the kitchen. “If you really want to help, Dane, go take care of the dishes while DeeDee and Sadie bus the tables.”

  One, two, three… Dane counted in an attempt to overcome the temptation to shake her.

  “That isn't—”

  “We're short-handed since you talked my sister into running off to your little dungeon playground.” Ariel waved at the kitchen. “Since it's important I be in here, and necessity requires Sadie and DeeDee be on the tables, that leaves you to clean up.”

  He tossed the towel onto the central island. “No, Ariel, that leaves me to take care of the invoices and payroll like Alayna asked me. Now give me the keys.”

  She
didn't even pretend to be intimidated by his tone. “I told you I'd take care of the paperwork—”

  “The. Keys.” A bit of his frustration and annoyance slipped into his voice.

  Something in his expression must have warned her he wasn't about to let this little prank of hers slide. She backed away from him and hurried out the double doors into the dining area.

  Well, she's smarter than I thought. He blew out an exasperated breath and followed her.

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  “Running won't help you, kid,” he warned. That drew the attention of the few customers who remained from the breakfast rush to Ariel's presence behind the front counter.

  If she wants a damned audience, let her have it. One way or another this will be settled today. He was only a few steps behind her as she grabbed a gray plastic tub and carried it to one of the tables waiting to be cleared.

  “I'm not running.”

  “Looks like you are to me.” Dane followed her into the center of the dining area. “I thought busing the tables was DeeDee and Sadie's jobs.”

  He and Ariel ignored the amused and watchful attention of the customers.

  “There's work that must get done. If I stand around, it won't get finished.” Ariel set the dirty dishes in the tub. When she picked it up, she started to turn toward the front counter but halted when she noticed him poised to intercept her. She spun to her left and hurried toward another dirty table.

  “Give them to me.” His voice was firm, inflexible.

  Her back went stiff, her head came up, and she spun around so fast, Dane ran into the plastic tub.

  “You want 'em?”

  “Yes.”

  She slammed the tub into his solar plexus. His breath whooshed out, but so quietly he doubted anyone other than Ariel heard him.

  Her eyes narrowed as she watched him regain his breath. “They're all yours. Make sure you rinse them off before you put them in the dishwasher,” Ariel told him as she sidled to the opposite side of the table.

  Dane set the tub down on the table. He was sure his face reflected his irritation and intention to get what he wanted. When her eyes went wide and the color in her cheeks faded, he knew she would ignore the instincts telling her to run. Instead she would stand her ground and continue to defy him. Even if it meant she put barriers between them. Not that he would allow a table to keep him from his goal. “The keys, Ariel.” Again he held out his hand.

  Ariel ignored it. “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared back at him. Her voice wavered slightly. Another sign she might actually possess a bit of common sense, but her damned bravado wouldn't let Ariel admit defeat. Not yet.

  “Your sister warned me that you could be difficult, but she didn't tell me you tended to behave like a two-year-old in a tantrum,” Dane reasoned, his voice quiet, calm. Two steps brought him around the table and closer to her. “I made a promise to your sister to take care of the office responsibilities while she's train—”

  Ariel's eyes narrowed, and her mouth went tight.

  He modified, “On vacation. While she's on vacation.” A softness entered her features and signaled her relief at his altered phrasing. Leaning close, he added in a firmer tone, “Nothing you do will stop me. So you have to decide if you intend to cooperate and act like an adult, or fight me.”

  Ariel rolled her eyes. A smug grin lifted one side of her mouth, an eyebrow cocked higher on her forehead, and the arrogant look in her eyes reflected her choice long before she opened her mouth. “What if I go with fight?”

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  “Then you'll have to deal with the consequences.” Oh the lessons I could teach her. Maybe I should show her how a Dom corrects his sub. His hands rested on his hips. While he awaited her decision, Dane was careful to keep his expression bland and unresponsive.

  “And those consequences would be?”

  Was that a flash of curiosity—perhaps even excitement—he spotted in her eyes? “Depends on if you want them to be public or private.” Dane could see a hint of unease seep into her bright green gaze. It overshadowed the arousal. The eyebrow lowered back into place, and her lips smoothed into a straight line. Her face looked pale beneath the skull-patterned black bandanna that covered her hair.

  Dane didn't bother to look around at the few customers who witnessed the confrontation.

  Over Ariel's head he could see the waitresses watching them. Neither DeeDee nor Sadie shifted from the tables they stood beside, their faces a mixture of amusement and uncertainty. “Which will it be, Ariel?”

  Her expression gave more away than she knew, Dane thought. He sensed she'd fight him, and the challenge intrigued the dominant part of him. But he could also detect a hint of dread. He wasn't sure, however, if it was worry connected to her not knowing what he'd do, or actual fear of him. It made him wonder if a lover in her past had used his fists on her. The blast of fury he felt at the thought surprised him, but he quickly contained it.

  She swallowed, stood up straight, and looked him directly in the eye. “Fight.”

  “Public or private?” He took a step closer. Her fear was still there, but she controlled it.

  And the fire of arousal appeared to rekindle in Ariel's eyes. The master within him almost purred with satisfaction.

  Ariel didn't flinch or hesitate. “Private.”

  Dane nodded. “Private, it is.” He reacted quickly. Reaching forward, he bent enough to set his shoulder in her stomach and flip her over it. She stayed stunned for less than two seconds.

  Her fists pounded against his back, and her legs tried to kick, but the arm he wrapped around them hampered any heavy blows. Dane ignored the gasps and stunned looks from the people around them, turned, and headed down the hallway to the office. If she wanted to act like a brat, he'd treat her like one.

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  Chapter Two

  “Put me down, you bastard,” Ariel demanded. Her breath impeded by the jostle of her stomach over his muscular shoulder, she wriggled to get free. She could have been a child based on the way he disregarded the blows from her fists.

  A firm swat landed on her bottom. “Private, remember, kid?”

  When she tried to wiggle a second time, Dane bounced her, pressing the breath from her lungs. The most difficult aspect of her position was listening to the snickers and giggles from the dining room and being unable to turn around and quell them with a look. Then there was the added issue of the scent of spices that filled her head every time her cheek bounced off the muscles of his back. She'd thought the cardamom and rosemary had merely been stray smells from her kitchen, but the tangy scents clung to Dane's clothes.

  By the time Dane shoved the office door closed, Ariel had passed irritated and entered into a determined smolder. Any fear she'd had when he confronted her in the café was gone, washed away by the irritation and anger his treatment of her spawned. She refused to acknowledge the hum of sexual interest that buzzed along her nerve endings. Tension vibrated through her. She clenched her teeth to quell the urge to sink them into the contoured muscles beneath his T-shirt, afraid once she latched on, she wouldn't let go until she tasted blood.

  He must have sensed her rage, because Dane didn't ease her off his shoulder and onto her feet. No, the prick dropped her. Dropped her!

  She stumbled backward, thrown off balance by his manhandling, and landed on her ass.

  She glared up at him as he watched her. Ariel scrambled to her feet and charged forward. “Get out!” Her hands hammered his chest and bounced off. He caught them in a firm grip.

  “You said private. I gave you private.”

  She tugged and twisted, trying to break free of his hold, but he wouldn't release her. A head butt was out of the question because of the differences in their heights. When she thrust her knee at his groin, Dane deflected it with his leg seconds before he yanked her forward. Impacting his chest, Ariel struggled to keep her feet even as he pulled h
er arms behind her and lifted her onto her tiptoes.

  “You chose to fight rather than cooperate.” His calm tone was gone, replaced by a firmer, authoritative timbre. Ariel cursed her body's reaction to him. His touch, the press of his chest against her breasts, even the vibration of his voice, stimulated her nipples. Her panties grew wet as her body reacted to the way he controlled her, how he held her pinned to him, her hands captured behind her back. That betrayal pissed her off even more. Focus, damn it. He's the enemy. I want him to get out of here, not crawl into my bed!

  Teeth bared, she warned him, “Let me go, you son of a bitch, or I'll scream this place down.”

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  Adjusting his hold, Dane kept her hands restrained and freed one of his own. He wrapped it around her throat. His fingers slid over the taut muscles as he stroked down toward the collar of her chef's coat. “No, you won't. This is between you and me now. You don't want to involve anyone else.”

  Her heart tripled its beats when his touch left her neck and began to ease open the buttons on her jacket. She squirmed and twisted, but a second button slipped free, then a third and a fourth. “So what? Do you molest me now to teach me a lesson? Is that how all your little slaves like to play? Well, not me, damn it. Get your hands off.”

  His fingers dipped beneath the heavy cotton garment. Ariel flinched from the heat of his touch, disturbed by the shiver of excitement that zinged through her belly. Her nipples hardened and pressed against the sports bra and tank top she wore beneath the jacket. One last attempt to free herself sent Ariel staggering backward, released from his hold.

  The lanyard she'd slipped over her head earlier dangled from his fingertips. The arrogant grin lifted his lips. “You can go back to work now.”

  Ariel didn't suppress the urge to charge. There was no damned way she'd allow him to keep the prize. “Give me those.”

  “No.” He flipped the brass keys into his palm.

  She reached and missed as he held the lanyard out of range. Remembering a self-defense maneuver she'd learned from an ex, Ariel tucked a leg between his, hooked it behind his calf, and shoved at his chest.