Uncollared (3 page)

“Why didn’t you?”

“I figured you needed some time to lick your wounds. We’ve all been through boyfriend troubles, hon.”

Boyfriend troubles
. Ronni didn’t know the half.

“But enough’s enough. Time to dust yourself off, pull yourself up by the bootstraps, and get back on the horse. Have I used enough clichés?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, here are a couple more—no point crying over spilled milk, and there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

There were no other “fish” like Master Philip, but Ronni had a point. Mia had spent far too much time moping and feeling sorry for herself.

She nodded in understanding. “Message received.”

Ronni smiled and stood. “How about lunch today?”

“If I can make a dent in all my paperwork,” Mia answered, indicating the tower of file folders on her desk. “And I have to battle it out with the power company.”

“What happened?”

“The Stevensons are about to have their power turned off because they’re four months behind in their payments.” Mia shook her head wearily.

“Four months? Why didn’t they come in sooner?”

“The mother said she thought they’d be able to come up with the money from her husband working overtime, but that fell through. Then one of kids got sick, and they had to pay the doctor, and so on and so forth.”

So on and so forth. One thing after another. Families like the Stevensons were already living on the edge, and one little thing going wrong—like a sick child—could mean having to choose between paying the doctor and paying the light bill. But pride sometimes kept them from asking for help until the situation turned dire.

“Well, good luck with that.” Ronni shook a playful finger at her friend. “And don’t forget your documentation.”

“No chance of that.” Mia sighed. “I’m drowning in it.”

“Just keep on swimming.” Ronni waggled her fingers in farewell.

A moment later Kevin Burton poked his head in the door. “Did I hear there are brownies?”

* * * *

Droopy didn’t half describe it.

When she got home that afternoon, Mia forced herself to look in the mirror and
really
see what she’d done to herself the past two months. She shook her head in disgust. Those hollow-eyed, pasty-faced zombies from the
Living Dead
films had nothing on her.

She had always been boyishly slim, but with her recent lack of appetite, she’d become downright scrawny. She resembled an anorectic waif with bad skin. And what was up with her hair? Bed head didn’t begin to cover it. It looked like it had been styled with hedge trimmers. Good God, had she really appeared in public like this?

Serina’s comment was a wake-up call. Ashamed of herself, Mia made up her mind that things would change. Today she’d start taking care of herself again. A nice long walk would do her good.

There was more to it than vanity. Every day at her job, she tried to help people like Serina improve their lives. She was, or wanted to be, a role model. How could she ask her clients to care about themselves if she didn’t do the same?

She changed out of her work clothes, slipped on a pair of running shoes, and then walked the few blocks to a nearby park.

Mia took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. Fallen leaves crunched under her boots as runners and power walkers swept by her on the path in Meyers Park. A few months ago, Mia might have been one of them. Sadly out of shape now, she was glad to simply keep up a moderate pace.

She used to come to the park four or five days a week, not just for the exercise, but to people watch as well. She realized now just how much she’d missed it. The past two months, there were too many things that she’d stopped doing, too many things she’d stopped enjoying. Eating. Exercising. Hanging with her friends, going to movies, shopping, cooking.

All because Master Philip didn’t want her.

She’d spent too much time in a self-pitying funk. Easy to tell herself to be strong that first night, when Philip let her go. Later, reality set in. She spent her days at work on autopilot, only to come home, flop on the sofa, and spend every night and most of the weekend zoned out in front of the tube. Even that wasn’t safe—it only took some drippy TV movie or sappy commercial to bring on the stupid tears.

She bounced between sadness and simmering anger. Philip never explained why he let her go. There’d been no warning, no chance to do better. It wasn’t fair.

It’s time to move on.
What the hell did that mean?

But she’d never have answers. And she’d wasted too much time obsessing over it. Well, no more. Ronni was right—time to end the pity party.

And so Mia walked in the park, actually smiling and enjoying the day. She stopped at a hot-dog wagon and got herself a snack. As she finished the last bite of her hot dog, Mia came upon someone else in a cheerful mood.

A handsome yellow Lab pranced over to her, a stick in his mouth, his tail wagging happily.

“Hi, big guy.” She stroked the dog’s silky ears and gave him a playful noogie on the head. The Lab smiled around the stick and huffed with pleasure. He opened his mouth and let the stick fall onto Mia’s boot.

“Ugh, Bailey, that’s disgusting.”

Recognizing the voice, Mia looked up at the speaker.

“Hello, Mia,” he said.

It was Master Chess.

Mia hadn’t seen him since the night he brought her home from LoFiglio’s.

“Hello.” When they met in the club, she addressed him as “Master” Chess, but that wouldn’t do here in public. And calling him “Sir” would certainly raise a few eyebrows. Mia wasn’t sure how to address him.

“It’s Francesco,” he told her, guessing her dilemma. Many Doms and subs used pseudonyms or nicknames in the club, to ensure their privacy and keep their personal activities separate from their vanilla lives. “It’s good to see you.” He looked her up and down, appraising her.

Mia self-consciously pulled her sweater tighter around herself. Master Chess’s—Francesco’s—gray eyes took in everything, the weight loss, the bad hair, the shadowed eyes. And she’d been biting her nails. He noticed that too.

While he of course looked perfect. The light jacket he wore looked expensive. His dark blond hair was styled in that I-just-ran-my-hand-through-it look. He had a high forehead, a long straight nose, and a slight indentation in his chin. His philtrum, the groove above his upper lip, was so sharply cut that Mia wanted to touch it.

Oh man. Where did
that
come from?

A shiver went through her. She’d avoided thinking of Chess. Remembering that night only brought back the pain of Philip’s rejection. But now she recalled how Chess held her hands at her door, how he looked at her.

“You will have another Master, Mia. And when he finds you, I hope he realizes what a lucky man he is.”

She remembered the spark that flashed through her at his touch. How it had scared and confused her. Seeing him now made her heart rate spike and the hairs on her neck prickle.

To hide her reaction, she bent down and picked up the slobbery stick and tossed it a few feet away. “There you go, buddy!”

They watched Bailey race after the stick. Chess—she really couldn’t think of him as anything else—turned to Mia with a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry about the dog spit on your shoes.”

“No problem. They were on clearance,” she explained with a shrug. Unlike his shoes; Mia wouldn’t be surprised if he had them custom made.

It suddenly struck her how strange it was to see him in Meyers Park when they’d never
ever
run across each other here before. Why today…?

The answer eluded Mia as she rubbed her fingers together and realized that not just her boots were slimy with dog drool. Chess slipped a cloth out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here. Maybe this will help.”

Mia held it for a moment, blinking. A genuine cloth handkerchief. Monogrammed, no less. It felt silky and expensive. “Thank you,” she finally managed. She couldn’t help but feel she was desecrating it as she wiped her hands. When she finished, Mia held it crumpled in her hand, at a loss. Handing it back to him dirty wasn’t quite the thing.

“I can, uh, I can get this cleaned for you,” she offered.

He nodded. “That’s fine. Just hold on to it for now. You can give it back to me when you see me at the club.”

Bailey returned with his stick, his wagging tail thumping Chess’s pant leg as he looked up hopefully at Mia. Again he dropped the stick, this time on the grass by her feet.

“Bailey, you’re a pest.” Chess bent down and picked up the stick and tossed it. “Go now.”

He looked at Mia once again. “Speaking of the club, I haven’t noticed you there lately.”

She flushed, not knowing how to answer. She’d never been to Restraint without Philip, and had no intention of returning now. What for? To watch him with another woman? A sick feeling of helplessness came over her.

If Philip visited the club without her, surely the news had spread that she was no longer his sub. How humiliating to think they all knew he no longer wanted her.

The helplessness instantly morphed to anger at the thought of being the object of everyone’s pity. Her eyes flashed to Chess. Did he feel sorry for her too?

“I’ve been busy,” she answered, her voice flat.

Yeah, real busy. Busy feeling sorry for yourself while Philip’s having fun with someone new.

She let the mean thought roll around in her brain to punish herself for caring. She wanted to hate Philip, but she couldn’t, in spite of all her anger and sadness.

Chess spoke. “Yeah, I know how that can be. But I hope you can make some time to come back. We miss you.”

Mia swallowed hard. Who was
we?
It certainly didn’t include Philip. Surely Chess didn’t mean
he
missed her.

She calmed herself. It didn’t mean anything. He was just being polite.

Bailey returned once again, now dropping the stick at his master’s feet. “No. No more stick,” Chess said firmly.

The Lab huffed in disagreement and pawed the stick. Mia smiled. None of Master Chess’s subs would ever be able to get away with that kind of misbehavior.

Chess gave her a half smile and a knowing look. He attached Bailey’s leash to his collar and tugged. “Come on, you. You’re making me look bad.”

Suddenly Mia flashed to what it might be like to wear Chess’s collar, be attached firmly to his leash. Connected to him. Heat zipped through her.

God.
What
was going on with her?

She held the crumpled hankie in her palm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Something glinted in his eyes. “I’ll see you soon.”

No, he wouldn’t. Not unless she again bumped into him accidentally.

“Take care of yourself, Mia.”

She blinked. His tone made the parting words sound not like a farewell, but like a command.

“Good-bye.” By the time Mia found her tongue, he had already walked away.

* * * *

Chess Ryan unlocked the door of his SUV, and Bailey clambered in, settling in the driver’s seat.

“No,” Chess said shoving at the dog’s hip. “
I’m
driving home. Move over.”

After delivering a long-suffering sigh, Bailey scooted to the passenger’s seat, whapping his master in the face with his tail.

“Settle down, you clown.”

Chess climbed into his seat and adjusted his seat belt. “Well, guy, we found her. Finally.”

Bailey tilted his head and stared back. “I’ll tell you the truth; I was about to give it up.” Chess turned the key in the ignition, checked the side mirror, and pulled away from the curb. “Wonder what she’d think if she knew we’ve been here every day for the past couple weeks, hoping to run into her.”

Not that he had much else to do these days. Sure, he could go in to the office and pretend to work. Wade through piles of past-due bills he had no hope of paying. Ignore the threatening letters from attorneys. Work up a sweat trying to juggle figures that no matter what he did, always ended in a negative balance. All in a hopeless attempt to shore up the family business that was failing fast.

Bailey, having nothing to contribute to the conversation, yawned. They rode the rest of the way home in silence.

* * * *

That evening, Mia sat on her sofa watching the news. She was also shoveling down an extra-large helping of Ben and Jerry’s Super Fudge Chunk with more determination than appetite. She needed to replenish some of her lost weight and stop looking so damn stringy. Her stockinged feet were propped on the coffee table, and next to them lay Chess’s handkerchief.

Her gaze kept lighting on the crumpled hankie, and every time she looked at it, a little shiver went through her. The same shiver she’d felt in Chess’s presence. She took the hankie and lifted it to her nose, inhaling a citrusy fragrance that lingered on the cloth. His cologne? She took another deep breath, picturing his face—and froze.

Man, she’d lost it. Why was she pressing a drool-slimed piece of cloth to her face and fantasizing about a man she’d barely said ten words to? Mia dropped the handkerchief as though it burned her hand, stared at it for a moment, picked it up, and quickly carried it to the bathroom hamper. There she left it, which she should have done in the first place.

She’d wash the handkerchief and find some way of getting it to Chess. A way that would not involve returning to Restraint.

As Mia returned to the living room, the “Flower Duet” from the opera
Lakmé
sounded on her cell phone. She froze. That was Master Philip’s ring…

She kept the phone in her purse, which hung by its strap over a kitchen chair. Mia grabbed the purse and upended it, her hands shaking, unmindful of the papers, loose change, and other items that fell out. There had been no word from Philip since that night at LoFiglio’s.

She shook the phone loose from the purse and fumbled it open. Mia’s breath caught when she read the text message on the screen.

Bella Mia. Friday nite. Restraint. 9 p.m. By yr Mastrs cmnd.