False Pretenses (16 page)
"Good morning.” Otis greeted them, although his tight expression indicated the situation was anything but pleasant. Appearing equally somber, Jared sat next to him with a stack of newspapers.
Paul McGinnis barreled in and moved to his seat.
"You're the last to arrive,” Jared commented.
A grimace of irritation flashed across Paul's face, but he stomped to the deposit box and shoved two tens inside.
Dan, Jordan, and Paul assumed their positions around the conference table.
Jared glanced at Otis. “This is it. Rick Majors is out of town at a funeral,” he said, referring to the remaining absent board member.
"We have a quorum, so let's convene.” Otis rapped the gavel. “As you all are aware, we've suspected we had an infiltrator in the organization. This morning, the
Sentinel
published a column about the Rod and Cane Society and that thing we do."
After showering and dressing, Emma fed Jinx, put the coffee on, and as it dripped, roamed aimlessly through a house grown silent and empty without Dan. He had filled the spaces of her home and her heart with the warmth of his presence, his rumbling voice, his masculine scent. Already it was hard to imagine her life without him in it.
But Dan hadn't left for good; he got called to a meeting and had promised to come back.
Foreboding evoked by the single name gnawed at her nerves.
Jared.
That could only be Jared Traynor, Melania's husband. But that didn't mean anything. Dan belonged to Rod and Cane, and she knew how much the organization demanded of its members. If Rod and Cane commanded Dan's presence, he had no choice but to obey. So why did she feel such dread?
Silly
.
Get over it, and figure out what you're going to say when Dan tells you about the organization.
That was easy. The truth. She'd tell him how and why she'd joined the Wives Auxiliary. She sighed. Thank God she'd killed the story.
Her clothing lay scattered from her living room to the bedroom. Despite her unrest, she smiled as she remembered how she'd removed and dropped each garment, littering a trail for Dan. She followed her own path to the bedroom, then retrieved the articles and deposited them in the bathroom hamper. On her way out, she spied the paddle atop her dresser. She hefted it in her hands, then smacked it against one open palm. The smooth, supple black leather provided light covering over an unyielding, stern wood.
She snapped it against her ass cheek, then harder across the other. Spanking herself didn't compare to having Dan bare her bottom, position her to his liking, then punish her cheeks with delightful kisses that made her writhe and gasp as her thighs grew slick from arousal.
Now
that
had an effect, she thought wryly, as her body released a surge of moisture while she replayed the delicious spankings Dan had given her. She pressed her lips to the paddle and returned it to the dresser top. “Later,” she said aloud. Dan had promised.
Her stomach fluttered with agitation. So he had a meeting at Society headquarters. It was nothing to worry about. The governing board had to convene to direct the business of the organization.
But out of the blue on a Sunday? Before it was even light?
Melania had mentioned there was a tempest abrew at Rod and Cane. Was this related? And what if it was? She had no reason to feel paranoid; she'd axed her column. Emma massaged her temples. The best thing to do would be to focus on something else while she waited for Dan. She hadn't talked to her mother for a while; perhaps she'd call Summer and chat. She'd write her replacement
Sentinel
article about the adoption of exotic pets. But first...coffee. Like chocolate, a strong cup of java could fix most ails.
First she detoured outside to retrieve her morning paper from beneath her car, where the paperboy liked to leave it. She could access the paper online, but she preferred to keep clippings of her columns.
With a cup of coffee, Emma settled at her small dining table to peruse the newspaper and check out what her fellow columnist had done. Today was Stu Davidson's week to write “CityScape Uncovered.” She wondered if Stu and the other two columnists who shared the space were vying for a full-time, permanent staff position the way she was. Probably.
Emma flipped to the front page of the B section.
"Oh God, no!” The headline of “CityScape Uncovered” leaped off the page, and Emma jumped out of her chair, knocking over her mug and soaking the newspaper. She felt the blood drain from her face.
For a nanosecond she assumed Stu had scooped her, gotten to the story first and had run with it. Then she saw Cassidy's byline.
Her tears of horror blurred the damning words on the sodden paper.
Secret men's society...duty and obligation to maintain discipline...sparing the rod entails spoiling the wife...avid submission.
How could this have happened? She'd trashed the e-mail, deleted the story! She did!
Didn't I?
How could the column have migrated from her laptop's Trash folder to a section front of the
Sentinel
? How would she explain this to Dan? To Melania? This was why Rod and Cane had called the impromptu meeting—the men had seen the column.
Emma dashed to her laptop, leaping over Jinx, who sniffed at the puddle of coffee on the floor. “Hurry. Hurry up, damnit!” she swore at the machine as it booted up with glacial speed. Emma paced as the computer took its sweet time to awaken.
Think, Emma, think, she told herself. “You, keep working,” she ordered the laptop.
Emma warmed the kitchen floor tiles, replaying the sequence of events: meeting Dan, getting spanked, waffling about the story, playing the game, then deleting the story. She remembered everything vividly. She had looked at her spanking photos, then opened the e-mail to Jen. She had clicked Delete and then—Ron had arrived. They had argued. Dan had called. She'd gone outside to talk.
And had left Ron alone with her computer!
Are you sure you want to delete this message?
Had she gotten the pop-up before she shut the lid? Had she clicked it? Emma frowned. Damnit, she couldn't remember!
Seconds after the last icon appeared on her screen, Emma connected to the Internet and her e-mail. She scrolled her Trash folder. The e-mail with her Rod and Cane story wasn't there, but the folder emptied automatically, anyway. Heart beating like a tom-tom, Emma opened her Sent Mail folder.
Son of a bitch.
There it was—the e-mail to Jen with the Rod and Cane attachment. The transmission time corresponded to when she had ducked out to the patio.
She didn't need to be a detective to figure out what had happened—or who was responsible. Obviously Ron had looked at her photos, read both e-mails she'd written to her editor, and realized how much trouble it would cause her if the story ran. He was smarter and more devious than she'd given him credit for. Anger rose within her, but she didn't entirely blame Ron. He'd struck out in revenge for perceived wrongs, but he couldn't have e-mailed a story that didn't exist. If she'd never written it, this wouldn't have happened.
Emma sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. What was she going to do? She couldn't retract it. Dan was going to feel so hurt and betrayed. How would she convince him that she hadn't meant a word she'd written? She had to talk to him before he saw the story.
Chapter Fifteen
Clipped to his belt, Dan's cell vibrated. Unable to take calls in the meeting, he ignored it and focused his attention on Otis and the crisis.
"It's apparent from the
Sentinel
article that the reporter was privy to our private functions, primarily Auxiliary events,” Otis said. “The women were interviewed surreptitiously, their comments about their personal domestic discipline situations and the Society noted and quoted. Several male members also got some press.” His expression grave, Otis glanced at each board member present.
Jared slid the stack of newspapers to the man on his left. “The article ran on the front of the B section,” Jared said. “I have copies for those who haven't seen it. Take one and pass it down."
Seated on the opposite site of the table, second from Otis's right, Dan waited for the papers to reach him.
Otis continued. “The impact will be twofold. First, the article will draw public censure and reprobation upon the Society, hindering our ability to provide a safe haven for our members. Second, and potentially more devastating, will be the fallout on a select few individuals.” Otis pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose in a gesture that reminded Dan of Emma.
He felt ill. People could lose their jobs, maybe even their friends.
"A saving grace is that the reporter used pseudonyms. However, some individuals still may be identifiable by the nature of their particular circumstances,” Otis said. “I recognized my wife, Lizzie. She was described as a female divorce attorney who handles high-profile and celebrity cases. Few women in this city other than Lizzie fit that description."
Jared nodded. “I could tell Melania had been quoted. I recognized certain pet phrases she uses."
The newspaper section headed Dan's way. The offending column ran above the fold, its headline blaring its message in twenty-four-point type.
CITYSCAPE UNCOVERED
MEN'S ROD AND CANE SOCIETY
SPARE THE ROD, SPOIL THE WIFE
Dan absorbed the headline in a quick scan, but his attention was riveted on the much smaller but more shattering byline.
Cassidy Myles.
Time slowed to a crawl, and Otis's and Jared's voices faded to a drone. Betrayal roared through him, flooding his face with heat from neck to hairline. The tips of his ears burned as if on fire. Dan's throat threatened to close, and he swallowed spasmodically. The two remaining newspaper sections reached him. He shoved one to his neighbor on his left.
Dan raised his hand—the one that had so lovingly, enjoyably spanked Emma—and tightened it into a fist. He slammed it down on the table “Goddamnit!"
A couple of the men jumped. Jared raised his eyebrows, while Otis shot him a censuring look. Crisis or not, self-control was to be maintained at all times.
How could she?
He'd trusted her. She'd said she loved him! He'd spanked her! Her enjoyment, her excitement had seemed so genuine. Had her response really been an act, a con to finagle more information for her column? Jesus, was
he
in the story? Choking back bile, Dan scanned Emma's article, growing sicker with every damning paragraph. He wasn't mentioned, but plenty of other people were, the intimate details of their private lives stripped bare for public entertainment. Though she'd made a cursory attempt to appear unbiased, the column's underlying tone indicated that Emma—aka Cassidy—considered domestic discipline and spanking to be deviant and perverse.
The article's sordid details rolled through his mind like an armored tank, flattening memories of the intimate moments he'd thought they shared. Emma had missed her calling—she should have been an actress. She'd performed a show worthy of a Tony award. Dan's chest hurt as if he'd been stabbed.
"I checked our database,” said Steven Glickman, who oversaw membership. “There's no record of a Cassidy Myles in the organization."
Otis leaned back in his chair and tapped his Mont Blanc on the conference table. “But clearly,” he said, glancing at the newspaper, “she has inside information. Somebody within Rod and Cane assisted her, perhaps by secretly recording conversations."
Dan took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He squared his shoulders and exhaled. “Cassidy Myles is a pen name,” Dan said woodenly. “Her real name is Emma Dupree."
"Shit.” A muscle twitched in Jared's jaw.
The men glanced from Jared to Dan, their gazes ping-ponging as if watching a tennis game.
"You two gentlemen know her?” Otis asked.
Dan nodded. “I've been seeing her."
"Seeing?” The full weight of the president's gaze settled on Dan.
"Dating.” Making love to. Spanking. Foolishly trusting.
"So you collaborated with her. You're the inside contact,” Paul accused.
"I didn't help her. I didn't know who she was.” He'd been duped like all the other people Emma had interviewed.
"That's a convenient excuse!” Paul snapped.
Jared spoke up. “Miss Dupree is a friend of my wife. She's a member of the Auxiliary."
"I wasn't aware of that,” Dan said tightly. He hadn't thought it possible to feel like more of a dunce, but apparently it was. Was anything he believed about Emma real and true? He'd known of her ambition, but hadn't realized how far she would go to get her story. She'd let him spank her!
"I don't know much about her,” Jared said, “other than she and Melania are friends."
That was more than he'd known.
"I will vouch for my wife that she was unaware that Emma was a news reporter,” Jared added.
Dan swallowed. “Emma's primary job is insurance. At least I think it is.” He had no idea if anything she'd told him was true. Bitterness filled his mouth. “She's been freelancing for the
Sentinel
."
Otis leaned onto his elbows and steepled his fingers “So she's a member. Interesting.” He fixed a pensive gaze on Dan. “How did you two meet?"
Dan grimaced at the viciousness of fate that had propelled them on an intersecting trajectory. “I was passing through her neighborhood when I spotted her searching for her cat. I stopped to help.” The one true fact—perhaps the only one—was that Emma hadn't deliberately sought him out to squeeze him for information. She didn't know he was a Rod and Cane member. Or did she? Their meeting had been accidental, but he had a position of prominence in the organization. Had she recognized his name when he'd introduced himself?
Christ.
Dan raked a hand through his hair.
"What are you thinking?” Jordan looked at Otis.
Otis tapped his pen. “Her membership status affords us a few options on how we handle this. It might actually be better for the Society that she's not a stranger. If there is any fallout, it will occur this week, and the severest damage will be limited to a few individuals."