Tangled Truth (11 page)

“Sheila, yes. She was the model for a lot of these. I think
she and Danny are in the next room where the bigger photos are.”

“I had no idea she was that…flexible.”

Drew couldn’t stop a snicker from erupting, and he had to
admire Godfrey’s iron control because he could tell the man was fighting
mightily to keep a straight face. “You’re a good sport, Mr. Godfrey.”

“Bob. Call me Bob. What’s this one called again?” He pointed
to the picture, the final in a set of half a dozen shots depicting a body-stockinged
Sheila becoming a rope-bound human pretzel.

“
Ebi
. The shrimp tie,” Drew translated. “The book’s
main focus is on traditional Japanese techniques, then there’s a section at the
end that discusses extensions and variations. Safety concerns and basic principles
to follow if you’re going to try to create new ties.”

“Safety?”

“That’s probably the most important consideration.”

A flicker of amusement crossed the older man’s face, and he
leaned in to study the photo more closely. “Good thing, too. You kids today,
with your complicated shenanigans. Holy mother of God, did I already mention
she’s flexible?”

Clearing his throat, Drew gestured to the wide, open archway
leading to the main room of the gallery. “In here we have the real heart of the
exhibit. The art shots, basically. They’re window dressing for the book, but of
course for the photographers this is the real fun.”

Eva returned to Drew’s side as he and her father rounded the
corner and saw the first of the larger photos. She steered them pointedly to the
left, knowing that a clockwise tour of the room would mean the maximum amount
of time before her father saw the photo with her face. The room’s large central
display panel would provide cover until he was at that last, all-important
wall.

“These are really something, peanut. You have some talented
friends.”

“They really are. I know it’s a bit…well, you know. But they
really are such beautiful photos. I was so glad you could make it, Dad. Has
Drew been explaining about the rope work?”

If not for the slightly high pitch to her voice, Drew
wouldn’t have known Eva was strung taut as a bowstring. She must have also
gotten her ability to keep a straight face from her father, he decided.
Certainly her mother was no good at hiding what she was thinking. The more he
tried to picture the easygoing, straightforward Bob Godfrey with the woman he’d
struggled to charm at dinner so recently, the more Drew marveled that they had
ever been a couple. Visually, they were a perfect match. But emotionally, they
must have driven each other to sheer insanity.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying not to bore him by getting my
shibari
geek on, though. Like I promised.”

He stopped their little group of three in front of the
centerpiece of the exhibit, a photo from the same series as the one Eva was so
worried about. For a moment they all simply looked, drinking in the piece,
absorbing the clean lines and subtle curves, the intricacy of the rope work in
the dragonfly weave contrasting with the porcelain-smooth skin of the model’s
back. This one was taken straight from the back, and was nearly symmetrical
with not a hair out of place. The only variance was at the hands; one of the
model’s pinkies was extended slightly, as though she were just about to move
her hand or resist the restraint.

Drew had to breathe out slowly and force himself to think
about baseball scores until the heat left his groin and he was steady on his
feet again. This picture always hit him that way, because he knew she had been
reaching for him with that delicate gesture. Not wanting him to leave her side,
even for the few minutes it took to take the series of photos. She had given a
frustrated little whimper right at that second, and he could hear it again
every time he looked at the photo. But it wasn’t only the sexuality, it was the
artistry in it too, the sheer beauty of the thing that caught him every time.
The way it captured the moment and spoke of all that had come before it, all
that might follow. The tension inherent in every line.

It was heart-stopping.

“Mr. Godfrey!” Sheila’s chipper greeting broke the trio’s
reverie, as she rushed to give Eva’s father an impetuous hug. She was sparkling
and giddy from champagne and success. “You made it! I’m so glad. Have you seen
it yet?”

This, despite Eva’s frantic attempts to catch Sheila’s eye
and her not-too-subtle gestures suggesting throat-cutting.

“Seen what, honey? Have your parents seen these photos yet,
young lady?”

“Oh, Mr. Godfrey. These are nothing compared to the last
book we worked on. Besides, I think they’re pretty hardened to it by now. God,
Evie,” she asked in an almost conspiratorial tone, “have you been hearing this
buzz? I’m getting the word ‘visceral’ a lot. I think it’s going to be so good.
The guy from the
Post
is already waxing lyrical.” She was practically jumping
up and down with glee.

“It does seem to be going well,” Eva allowed. “Don’t you
have people to schmooze?”

“I do! So many. Most of them want to know who you are, so
get back to mingling, okay?”

She darted off again with a perky wave, leaving Eva with a
smile frozen across her face and Mr. Godfrey looking puzzled. Drew pondered
whether to stay or give her some privacy with her dad, but Eva’s fingers
clenched his arm with all the strength of a vise clamp.

“So?” her father asked after a pause that included lots of
significant glances between all concerned.

Eva blew out a breath then straightened herself, squaring
her shoulders. “Okay. I guess at this point there’s nothing else for it. Come
this way.”

They bypassed the rest of the photos, weaving around the
various clumps of assembled revelers to arrive behind a small crowd gathered in
front of the last picture along the long wall. There were faces they knew,
faces they didn’t, but all the faces turned to Eva in recognition as she worked
her way to the front of the group with Drew and her father in tow on either
side of her.

Even the strangers in the crowd picked up on the fact that
the three newcomers were having a Significant Moment. Without a word, they
drifted away to a respectful distance, leaving the little group in relative
privacy before the picture of a naked, bound Eva with a face that spoke of
hypnotic sensual bliss.

Drew would have backed off with them if Eva weren’t still
clutching his arm like a shipwreck victim clutches a life preserver. He risked
a glance over her head to her father’s face, which was a study in conflicting
emotions.

It was a long time before Mr. Godfrey spoke, and when he did
he sounded more sure of himself than Drew had expected. It was as though he had
made a decision about how to react and was determined to follow through.

“That’s beautiful,” he stated firmly. “I’ve never seen you
look that…happy.” Turning away from the picture, he studied Eva’s face with a
similar concentration. “I can’t pretend I’m comfortable looking at it, but it’s
worth it to know you’ve found something you can feel that strongly about.”

Eva’s smile was watery, and Drew reached out to grab a
cocktail napkin from a passing caterer’s tray in case tears followed. She held
it together though.

“Is
this
why she threw you out?” Godfrey suddenly
asked before Eva could speak. “Jesus, honey. No wonder. I’m surprised she
didn’t have a stroke on the spot.”

“Something like this,” Eva admitted. “And you? She always
implied you had a drinking problem, but it was this, wasn’t it? Looking back on
some of the things she said—”

The older man coughed and sputtered in a way that would have
been comical if not for the situation. “
This
? You’re giving your old man
way too much credit for ingenuity, honey. Hell, I only wanted her to…”
Realizing his audience, he shook his head and bit his lip as he considered how
to phrase himself. “I asked her to do something I think most married people
would not think twice about. Nothing like this, just something…people sometimes
do for each other. She never would. She’d told me once very early on never to
ask again. When I did break down and ask again, finally, after fifteen years of
marriage, she told me I was damned to burn in hell as a Sodomite.”

“Um.”

“No, no. I wasn’t asking her to—”

“It’s okay, really, I’d rather not—”

“Not
that
kind of sodomy. Her definition
was…different.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Honey, do you want some more wine or anything?” Drew was
loyal up to a point, but at that moment he would gladly have chewed his own
hand off to escape the conversation, and he was fairly sure both Eva and her
father felt the same way but were trapped by a web of mismanaged communication.

She glared up at him and tightened her grip on his arm until
he was in pain.

“It wasn’t this,” Mr. Godfrey said, making a cutting gesture
with his hands that took in the picture, himself, the two of them. His eyes
were squeezed shut, a grimace locked onto his face. “And it was nothing bad.
She’s just crazy. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I know she’s your mother and I
shouldn’t say that, but—”

“It’s okay, Daddy, I know she’s crazy.”

“Can I start over?”

“Oh God, please do.”

He took a deep breath first and slowly opened his eyes.
“This is beautiful, and if it makes you happy, I’m happy for you. And I’m proud
of you for being your own person. I hated having to leave you with her, peanut.
I really did, but the court was never going to give you to me and I didn’t want
to make you have to get up there and testify, choose between us like that.
Knowing that you can come out of that and still have the strength to do
something like this and let people see it…that amazes me.
You
amaze me.
And you,” he said, a scowl instantly transforming his face as he pointed at
Drew, “that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed as hell at you for doing this to my
little girl. I really do want to kick your ass all over this room right now,
pal.”

The words rang around the three of them. Then Drew nodded,
slowly, and held out his free hand, thankful it was the right one. Mr. Godfrey
glared at it before taking it and giving it another power-shake that came very
close to breaking bones.

“Understood, sir,” Drew responded, struggling not to grin as
he shook the cramp from his abused hand.

“I don’t have to be consistent when it comes to stuff like
this,” Mr. Godfrey explained. “Because she’s my daughter. But I’ll hold off on
the ass-kicking. For now.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Eva muttered. She was blushing, the high red
color topping each cheek in a vivid dash that played beautifully off the color
in her dress. “I think we could probably
all
use some more wine right
now.”

Chapter Ten

“Head. I’m pretty sure he was talking about head. So that
means that the whole time they were married, she
never once
—”

“Drew, oh my God, please stop. Please, please stop now and
never speak of this again.
Please
?”

“But fifteen years, honey. Fifteen
years
.”

“It might not have even been the rope thing,” she marveled,
securing another plastic wineglass in her hand and throwing it in the trash can
Drew was wheeling along behind her. “This whole time I thought it was because I
was tied up, but maybe that part didn’t even matter as much as the fact that I
was giving Andy head? I’ve given
plenty
of guys head since then, I never
even had an
issue
with doing that.”

“I thought you never wanted to speak of it again?” He
detoured to pick up a litter of flyers and napkins from the corner of the
gallery’s larger room, pitching them neatly into the trash can from a distance
of eight or ten feet.

“The part about my parents, yeah. I think that’s everything.
The cleaning service can get anything else when they mop up.”

She put the last cup in the nearly full can then ambled over
to sit on the table the caterers had been using. With a sigh of relief, she
eased her high, peep-toe pumps from her feet and let them clump to the ground.

“So do you think the evening was a success?” Drew strolled
over to stand in front of her, nudging her knees with one hip.

“I do. Despite the stuff I can’t unhear.” She wrapped a
stockinged foot around his leg and pulled him close enough that she could hook
her fingers around his belt. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you, too. I have a great idea for a New
Year’s tradition. I’ve been waiting all night to show you.” He lifted an
eyebrow suggestively, and Eva gave him a coy look in return.

“I could probably be talked into whatever it is,” she
allowed.

“Then stand up and turn around.”

He had sneaked out to his car moments before the gallery
closed, and now he procured a length of rope from his pocket. He’d been keeping
his back to her for half an hour or so, hiding it, pretty astonished that she
hadn’t caught on. Now he ran the soft line through his fingers, letting it
unwind and fall under its own weight to hang between them, waiting to be used.

Eva stood and offered her hands behind her back as if she
knew what he had in mind. She hadn’t even paused, and that alone was enough to
get Drew going.

It was black this time, the rope he tied her hands with. Not
as long as he would have liked, not long enough to recreate the complete
dragonfly weave. But he accomplished a slightly more complex version of the
very first tie he’d ever bound her with. Then he leaned into her, running his
hands boldly down from her collarbones to cup her breasts through the fine knit
of the carnelian dress.

Drew gasped as Eva cupped him in a more meaningful way,
sliding her bound hands over his cock and bringing him from half-mast to
full-staff within seconds. Stopping her was its own kind of torture, but he had
something specific in mind and had enough will power to stick to his plan. It was,
after all, a combination of things he’d been dreaming about, developing and
honing for months.