A_Little_Harmless_Fascination (10 page)

She shrugged. "In a way, yes. But these are the
obligations that the poor relation has for the other people in my family, if
you get my drift."

She felt his nod but couldn't look at him. Her family
relations were so embarrassing. Jillian knew she wasn’t responsible for their
behavior, but it didn’t make it any better. Conner took all his
responsibilities seriously, more so than a lot of people. Knowing she was
related by blood to some of the laziest, back-bitching jackasses in Atlanta
society was humiliating.

"They aren't expecting you to come back to the mainland
for something, are they?"

She glanced at him and realized he was really worried. She
shook her head and chuckled. "Oh, God, no. They would rather have nothing
to do with me, but they have some family issues, and they need approval from me
on them. It was in my grandmother's will, the old bitch."

"Do you think she might have been trying to keep you
tied to your family for your own good?"

Jillian knew she could let him believe that. It wasn’t like
she hadn’t done it before. Appearances had never been important to her, but
getting into her family politics was not something she wanted to do with
people. Even her lovers. Until now. He wasn’t her lover yet, but she knew that
it was going to happen without a doubt. For some reason, though, she knew she
wanted him to comprehend just what she dealt with.

"You know the last thing she said to me?" she
asked as she looked out over the water.

He shook his head.

“‘It's too bad you've decided to take yourself down to your
father's level. He was never good enough for my daughter. Blood will always
tell.’”

He was quiet for a second or two, and then he said, "So
your grandmother disapproved because he was a baseball player?”

She studied him for a second then realized that for Conner,
he would never see her as her family did. "No. My father was black."

"Yeah, so?"

She smiled. "My mother's side of the family had old
southern values, one of them being that you don't mix the races."

"But your mother didn't feel that way?"

She smiled then, remembering her mother and just how in love
with her father she was. There was never a question in her mind. "Nope.
And worse, she cut off all contact with her family. My grandmother actually
tried to have my father arrested. It didn't work because Dad was the favored
son of the Braves at the time."

“She tried to have Reggie Sawyer arrested?”

She laughed. "Yeah."

He was quiet for a second or two, then said, "You never
talk about them much.”

“Them?”

“Your parents. You complain about the Bentleys, but I never
hear you talk much about your mother and father. I know you cared about them
because you have pictures of them up in your house. The same ones you had when
you were rooming with my sister.”

The man never missed a beat. While it was aggravating that
he noticed so much, it also gave her a sense of security in a way.
 

"It isn't like I lied about it. And after the accident,
I hated people knowing. They always felt like they had to tell me they were
sorry he died. So many people thought they knew him personally. It was kind of
hard to take. And they always seem to forget I lost both my parents. It wasn’t
just my dad. Hearing the stories were the worst of it. It was a lot to take for
a girl of ten. I guess an adult would have handled the grief better."

She didn’t know if she would take it better now. Everyone
felt that she should accept their grief, take it on, because for them she was
the memory of her father. At the time, she had been overwhelmed by the
attention.

He nodded in understanding. "Then you had to move in
with your grandmother.”

"I had no choice. She didn’t particularly care for me
or my father. She was still pretty mad at my mother for marrying him. Dad had
only one brother. His parents died when I was just a baby, and the few extended
family members he had were either too old or totally inappropriate to raise a
child."

"Ah, yes, your uncle was Sam Sawyer, the football
player."

"Yep. And he had a mean streak. Dad would never let me
near him. So, off to grandmother's I went. And that whole crazy inbreed
family."

He snorted out a laugh. "Inbreed?"

"They marry in their class, always white of course, and
it is the same group of friends and acquaintances. You know there is some
inbreeding going on there."

"So you have to stay in contact with them?"

She nodded but didn't want to go into her duties to the
family. They just made her angry and sad. Knowing that the same blood that ran
through them ran through her was embarrassing. She wanted to pretend that they
didn’t exist, at least for a little while.

"Since you got me out of my funk, why don't I treat you
to lunch at Cholo's?"

"Not sure I like the sound of that."

She laughed, feeling better now that she had talked to him.
"Fish tacos, bruddah. They are the best on the island."

He studied her for a second, then said, “You know, you don’t
have to be embarrassed about your family.”

The fact that he could read her so well was a bit troubling.

Embarrassed? More like mortified, but she didn’t like that
he was so perceptive. “I never said anything about that.”

“No, but I sense there are things you don’t want to talk
about because they’re uncomfortable for you. I just want you to know that what
your family does isn’t about you. It’s about them.”

She could tell by the serious look in his eyes that he
wasn’t kidding.

“Thank you.”

He slid his finger down her cheek and then traced her jaw.
Even though the sun was warm on her skin, she shivered. The breath tangled in
her throat as he leaned forward and brushed his mouth over hers. She could
taste the salt of the ocean on his lips, but he didn’t deepen the kiss.
Instead, he pulled back and smiled down at her.

“Fish tacos?”

It took her a few moments to get her brain to work. Her
heart was still beating hard against her chest as her head spun. The man barely
kissed her and she was melting there on the sand.

“Jillian?”

“Yeah, fish tacos. You’ll love them.”

"You lead, and I’ll follow."

*
 
*
 
*
 
*

Conner glanced around the little restaurant. They had taken
a seat outside, and he had enjoyed watching the mixture of tourists and locals
mingle on the streets and the shops of Haleiwa.

Jillian made a humming sound, bringing his attention back to
her. Again, Conner was amazed how much food Jillian could pack away. She ate
like it might be her last meal, and he was pretty sure if he hadn't forgotten
to eat breakfast, she would have outeaten him. He didn't know where she hid it.
She wasn't slim, but she definitely wasn't fat. In fact, she was just the way
he liked his women. He didn't like skin and bones. He liked a woman who didn't
make him feel like a giant.

"Do you want another order?"

She laughed. "No. I think this was enough, although
they are one of my favorite meals. I love the fish tacos here."

She took a sip of her drink and watched him over the rim of
her cup.

"Thanks for pulling me out of the house today."

He started to wave it away, but she shook her head.
"No, when I have to deal with my family, it can put me in a mood for days,
sometimes a week. They aren't the most pleasant people to deal with."

"You have any cousins near your age?"

"A few. I wasn't ever that close to them. They saw me
as an interloper."

"And, what do they do?"

Her brow furrowed. "Do?"

"Do, you know, for a living?"

She shrugged. “Most of them just live off the family money.
Everyone gets a monthly stipend."

"But you work, so I assume that they must have to,
also."

"I write, and I make a very nice living from it, but I
don't have to work, if you get my drift."

"Really? So what do you do with all your money?"

She laughed. "That’s really rude."

He felt his cheeks burning. "Sorry. It's just that your
house isn't very high end. I like it, don't get me wrong, just that if you have
that much money..."

"Why don't I have one of those palatial estates in
Kailua or near Diamond Head?"

He nodded.

"First, that house is expensive because all land here
on Oahu is. But I give to a lot of charities.”

Of course she would.

"And you write so you can do that?"

"No, I can do that because I write. I don't choose to
write."

"You have no control over what you do, is that what
you're telling me?"

“It’s been something that I have always wanted, but I don’t
truly choose to do it.”

“Bullshit.”

She smiled then and it reached her eyes. "It’s the
truth, I promise. That would drive you crazy, wouldn't it? I have a feeling you
have control issues."

He shifted in his seat, ignoring her knowing look. It was
one thing to live in the BDSM lifestyle. It was another thing for her to know
it. If she knew it, his sister would, too. Maura knew of his lifestyle. He had
never hidden it from her. It was different for his baby sister to know the
dirty details.

"No comment?"

"Just because I know Micah and Dee doesn't mean I have
anything to do with the club."

"I knew from the first time I met you that you had the
tendencies of a Dom.

"You did not know I was a Dom the first time you met
me."

"Okay, when I was in school, no. I didn’t understand it
then. But, I noticed how you would stride through those hallways like you owned
the place. There was a reason there were always tons of girls with absolutely
nothing to do the night you showed up to take Maura out."

"Now who's lying?"

"Seriously, you think a bunch of college coeds have
nothing to do on a Saturday night?"

He had thought it odd, but he hadn't lived on campus when he
went to school.

"Still, how would you know what I do in the bedroom by
the way I act?"

She rolled her eyes in much the same way his sister did. But
instead of irritating him like it did when Maura did it, it turned him on.
Truth was, just about everything she did turned him on. Even when she was
mocking him, he wanted her. It was like he was a teenager again with a crush.

He really was in deep.

"When you showed up here, I sensed it. I mean, I write
the stuff.” She shrugged. “And I have a degree in sociology with a minor in
psychology.”

“Lord.”

“Why do all guys have that reaction?”

“Because women are always trying to figure out what makes
men tick. With your degrees, there’s a good chance you could figure it out and
then tell us how to fix it.”

Her lips curved as she leaned forward. “I would never use it
to fix a man. Screw with his head, yes. Fix him, not my job.”

He laughed, enjoying her sick sense of humor.

“You doubt me?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not at all. I have a healthy degree of
respect for a smart woman with your sense of humor.”

“Good, you should know what you’re getting into if you are
thinking of messing with me.”

“But you picked me out as a Dom even before I told you that
day?”

She nodded to confirm his statement. “Like I said, with my
background and, of course with my writing, I know the tendencies. If you hadn’t
told me, I would have definitely guessed after that kiss last night. If I
didn’t, calling me up and giving me orders went beyond just the normal phone
sex."

She said it loud enough for the table next to them to
notice.

"This is something you've done?" he asked.

Part of him wanted to know but another part of him didn’t.
He didn’t want to think about her with another man. He had always thought she
was a little dominant herself, but after last night, he wasn’t so sure. She had
always seemed so in control, so willing to take the reins.

"Dabbled. I have trust issues so that kind of lifestyle
would be hard to deal with if I didn't trust the guy completely. Let's get back
to you. Why don’t you have a regular club back in Florida?"

His eyes narrowed. "Are you taking notes for your
books?"

She chuckled. "No, but I will warn you that most things
in my life have some kind of influence on my writing. Sometimes I don't even
notice it until I read the final draft."

She shifted her braids over her shoulder, and it brought his
attention to her tattoos.

"Rebellion?" he asked, nodding his head to her
shoulder. She had a multitude of them, bright and colorful. He had never been
into tattoos himself, but he had always had a secret thing for women who were.
That and piercings.

"In a way. I am an expressive person. This is just
another way of expressing myself. If I irritate the family in the process, so
be it."

"I didn't think you saw them that much while you lived
here."

"I don’t, thank the good lord. Every now and then I do
have to make it back to Atlanta for the quarterly business meetings. Plus, my
PA lives there."

"Your PA?"

"Yeah, I hired a personal assistant. All my mail goes
there, she sends it to me. And don't think that you got yourself off the hook.
I still have a few more questions. So back to the club issue?"

"No. I tried out a few, but really didn't like them. I
was a member in DC, had been a member of a club in Miami, but it closed down.
After that, I just never found one that I liked."

"You like to do things in private? So you don't play in
public?"

He shifted again but this time not from embarrassment. Just
talking about this with Jillian was making him insane. He had wanted the woman
before, but now he wasn't too sure of what he wanted from her. If she were a
sub, it would add another level to their relationship he wasn't sure either of
them were ready for. But, dammit, he wanted it. Wanted it so badly he was
having trouble controlling himself. That hadn’t happened in years.