Page 2 of Under His Command

“Manners, Roscoe. Sit.” Though pitched low in a smooth baritone, his order held an edge of steel.

This time, the dog dutifully sat at attention, his hot breath panting against her thigh. Cassie felt compelled to fall in along with him, considering the command held an unmistakable air of authority.

“I’m sorry. He’s never met a stranger. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she replied, patting the dog’s head and giving him a scratch behind the ear before glancing up at his owner. “I hadn’t realized the tide was coming in, and sofast.”

Cassie saw him stiffen. “You’ve been drinking,” he stated. Next, he leaned in and sniffed. “And smoking.” She couldn’t see his expression clearly but could feel the intensity of his disapproval. “What were you thinking going into the water while under the influence? Were you trying to drown yourself?”

“No, I—”

“Are you here alone?” he interrupted. A burst of laughter from behind her drew his gaze to the group of partiers down the beach. “You should get back to your friends and don’t wander away again until you’re sober.” He paused a moment. “Are any of them fit to drive?”

“I’m not with them, not really. I was heading back to my car—”

“You’re not getting behind the wheel as you are; you can barely stand up.”

That wasn’t true. Without the onslaught of the incoming waves and free of the shifting sand, Cassie was quite steady. Irritated by his bossy, pejorative manner, she pulled away. “I hadn’t planned to drive. I was going to call a cab.”

“Good. I’ll walk you back and wait while you do.” Without getting her agreement for this plan, he turned, and with her wrist in his inflexiblehold, began walking. A shrill whistle pierced the air suddenly, making her jump yet again. “Roscoe!”

The dog obediently fell in line beside her. Who wouldn’t?

“This is unnecessary. I’m fully capable of returning to my car on my own.”

“It didn’t look that way to me a moment ago,” he muttered. “How much did you drink and smoke?”

“A few beers, and if it’s any of your business,” she snapped, letting her annoyance show, “I wasn’t smoking. As for the mishap in the water, the force of the waves startled me. And I intended to call a cab. I’m not an idiot, no matter what you may think.”

He pulled her to a stop, standing close enough for her to see his features if it wasn’t so dark. She suspected he was frowning when he said brusquely, “Forgive me, but you kids can’t always be trusted to do what is best, or smart. Case in point, wading with the tide coming in.”

“I didn’t know it was coming in,” she protested.

“It’s something you should know before coming to the beach, especially if you plan to stay after dark or get into the water.”

“That was an accident,” she repeated, her voice rising.

“I suppose the beer and pot were an accident, too,” he countered. “Both are prohibited. They patrol this beach often at night; you could have been arrested.”

“What are you, a cop?” A public drunkenness arrest on the eve of starting her new job wouldn’t thrill her employer.

“I’m not a police officer. But this is a resort island and we’re used to drunk and disorderly tourists on the beach. As well as underage consumption. If you were my daughter, you’d be grounded for a month after a trip over my knee for a good old-fashioned spanking for pulling this stunt.”

She gasped for two reasons. First, because he thought she was young enough to be his daughter. Cassie often found herself mistaken for a teenager, which had caused endless irritation over the years. Being five foot three and one hundred ten pounds soaking wet added to the misperception. She needed to stop wearing her hair in a ponytail, which would help. Second, his suggesting she needed to be punished, like a child.

Although he clearly wanted to provoke a reaction with his threat, she didn’t think her response would be the one he expected. She’d been over a man’s lap for discipline before and liked it. It had been a while—five, perhaps six years—and she missed it. The meremention of itafter such a long dry spell sent a delicious tremor coursing through her.

But he couldn’t know her shiver wasn’t from fear or outrage. Wouldn’t he be shocked to learn she got off on a good paddling? Though tempted to throw it in his face, she wasn’t so reckless.

Still, who did this guy think he was? They were complete strangers. What right did he have to imply she needed punishment? Outside of a relationship, or a club scene she negotiated with a dominant of her choosing, no way.

“You know,” she saidcurtly, “I appreciate your help back there, but I’m not drunk. Furthermore, I’m not a kid, but an adult who doesn’t need a lesson from a stranger who, for all I know, is a serial killer.” She jerked on her arm. “Let me go.”

He released her immediately and took a half step back. When he did, Roscoe surprised her by sitting on her feet and leaning against her legs, his tail thumping on the wet, compacted sand.

The moon made an appearance just then, and she saw him for the first time. Not clearly, but she could make out a firm, clean-shaven jaw, a mouth turned down in a frown—like she’d guessed—and eyesframed by a thick fan of long, dark lashes, though she couldn’t make out their color. His hair, slightly long on top but cropped close on the sides, was a light shade, either a dark blond or sandy brown. He wore an Under Armour shirt which fit him like a second skin, accentuatinga muscular upper body and incredibly broad shoulders. Even in the dark, she could tell he was handsome, and not that much older than she was, mid-thirties, at most.

He sighed suddenly and dragged a hand across his jaw. Cassie heard the rasp of a beard and imagined he sported a five-o’clock scruff, something she always found sexy.

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