Page 1 of James

CHAPTER ONE

Laura Turner stumbled through the door of the laundromat and into the heavenly blast of an industrial air conditioner. It was the 31stof July and another meltingly hot summer day, but she had no choice but to get out in it and walk. Her arms ached from the weight of the bags from Hy-Vee grocery. Her laundry hadn’t seemed so heavy when she left the house, but now the straps of her backpack dug at her shoulders. Even through her sneakers, her feet ached from walking on the blistering-hot pavement and her shirt was plastered to her body with sweat. Gross!

She wasn’t alone – there was a car in the parking lot and one of the machines was in use -- but the place appeared empty. And since she didn’t have to settle for the crappy machine by the door, she headed for one of the ‘good’ machines about halfway down the row. The washer next to it was sloshing away and there was a toolbox tucked under the chair in front of it, so she’d have company eventually, but there was no one to be seen right now.

Laura wasn’t up for small talk anyway. Her father had been crankier than usual during today’s visit. What was wrong with the man? He was only sixty-three, but most of the time, he seemed as if he were ten or twenty years older, and acted fifty years younger. He was her dad and she loved him, but at forty-two, she had her own life. She worked full-time, volunteered at the church, and watched her niece and nephew every Saturday. He complained that she ‘never had time for him,’ but visiting her dad twice a week and bringing him home-cooked meals he only needed to microwave were all she could squeeze in.

Her sister visited him twice a week too. As a single mom, Suzie didn’t have time – or money, for that matter – to bring him meals, but she did her duty as a daughter. Poor Suzie. After her husband died, all she had left were hospital bills on top of hospital bills. Taking the kids to the movies or the playground once a week gave Suzie a bit of desperately-needed me-time, and Laura was happy to do it. She loved the little rascals. Her nephew, Tim, was eleven, serious and sweet, and trying very much to be the man of the house. Abby, who soon would be eight, was bright and lively as a hummingbird, and could bring a smile to anyone’s face. Laura missed not having any children of her own, but at this point in her life, she didn’t expect that to change.

Laura sighed with relief as she put her groceries on the chair beside the one with the toolbox under it. She shrugged off her backpack and knelt in front of the big industrial washing machine to load it up. Life would be so much easier if she had her own machine. If she at least had a car, she wouldn’t have to struggle with lugging laundry and groceries around every week during the always tempestuous Midwest weather. However,between taking care of her father, paying off the debts her useless ex had stuck her with and helping her sister with the kids, another big expense just wasn’t on the agenda in the foreseeable future.

She’d manage. In another year and a half, she’d be free and clear of the debt and maybe then she could afford a decent used car or at least a washer and dryer. The duplex where she lived now was nice enough, but light on the creature comforts, and her landlord was one of those who only believed in prompt communication when the rent was due.

Laura put her laundry in the machine, added detergent and coins and switched it on. Now all she had to do was wait.

Laura settled into the seat next to the grocery bags. It was impossible to get comfortable in these plastic chairs. Luckily, she had lost more than thirty pounds, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to fit in the round molded contraptions at all. And if she lost another thirty pounds, she’d have to sit crooked in order to lean on one of the armrests, while the plastic dug at her ribs and thighs. It was like they’d been deliberately designed to be annoying at any size, a means for the absent management to tell their clientele not to get too comfortable, just wash your stuff and get out.

Laura dug into her bag and pulled out her novel, a well-worn paperback with a cracked cover and pages wrinkled and curled from multiple readings. She opened the book at her marker and immersed herself in a fantasy world of Alpha men and the strong, submissive women they loved.

In seconds, she was so engrossed that she never heard the man approach until plastic chair legs loudlycomplained at taking his weight just on the other side of her grocery bags. She could see him from the corner of her eye as he settled himself without acknowledging her so she could keep reading. She wanted to, but he wasn't exactly a stranger, so that would be rude.

Laura looked up from her book and made eye contact with the tall man she had seen here once or twice before, but had never actually met. Okay, she had seen him exactly four times. He wasn’t someone you overlooked or forgot. Probably five to ten years older than she, he had dark hair with a sprinkling of gray and a body that showed he worked hard for a living. He wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that highlighted his muscular forearms and a simple but masculine watch. What was it about a watch on a man’s arm that made him so sexy? The ripple of muscle, the glint of gold…

Oh, girl, stop it!But she couldn’t. Her covert glance had become a full-on stare, and before she knew it, she was checking him out with all the subtlety of a schoolgirl with her first crush. Shyly, she looked up at his face. The crinkles beside his eyes told her two things: first, that he laughed frequently, and second, that he was totally aware of what she’d been thinking.

Oh hell, busted! Laura managed a weak apologetic smile, but in her haste to return to her book, she dropped the blasted thing on the floor in front of his feet. Before she could grab the book, he picked it up for her.

His gaze fell on the cover, assessing the picture of a kneeling woman in front of a muscled man. Laura wished there was a hole in the ground to swallow her. His eyes skimmed over the title and author. Then he held out the book to her. “Cherise Sinclair,” he said in a low rumble. “Interesting choice.”

Laura didn’t know where to look. How on earth did he know this author? Did men read this sort of book? “Thank you,” she mumbled and accepted the book.

Before she could say or do anything else, a loud clap of thunder interrupted them, followed by a close crash. Laura froze, but the man shot to his feet and, with three purposeful strides, he reached the door and cursed.

Laura came out of her daze. “What? What is it? What happened?” she stammered.

He turned around and stepped in front of her. “Don’t panic.”

“Don’t panic? Don’t panic?” She knew she was babbling, maybe even gibbering, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Why do people even say that in stressful situations? It’s guaranteed to make people panic! What’s wrong? Why won’t you let me see?”

“Girl—” He fixed Laura with an even stare. “—calm down and sit.”

Laura instinctively responded to his quiet authority and sank back into her chair.

“Good girl.” He knelt in front of her and braced his hands on her armrests, boxing her in. “We have to stay in here for a while.”

James Black assessed the pretty woman in front of him. Not young, maybe late thirties or early forties, with long legs and appealing curves. Perhaps not beautiful in a classic, cover-girl kind of way, but James liked what he saw. Her face had character and her hair was a gorgeous dark mane with a skunk streak of silver at one temple. She was such a contradiction, confident in her stride and posture,but shy when given attention.Definitely a submissive. The book had been a dead giveaway, but her prompt acquiescence to his command to sit confirmed his suspicions. She was submissive and on the verge of panic. Well now, wasn’t it nice he was just the Dom to take care of that?

“It’s raining cats and dogs, and I think lightning hit one of the trees. The wind is picking up.” James scanned her face; it was too pale for his liking. “For now, we can’t go outside. With luck, the storm will pass soon.”

Blinking, she made a visible effort to pull herself together and slowly nodded.

What a delight she was, James thought. She had an expressive face and probably an active mind when she wasn’t scared stiff. Paired with those legs and curves, she really was his type of woman. How he would enjoy turning those ass cheeks hot pink. His palm tingled with anticipation and blood ran to his dick. Hell, jeans and a hard on weren’t made to go together. And here he was, getting carried away by his attraction instead of taking care of a woman who obviously needed comfort and attention.

“Are you okay, miss?” he asked.

It had been a long time since anyone had called Laura “miss.” Although she was in good shape for her years, the gray in her hair clearly identified her as “ma’am” to most people.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m a bit startled. I didn’t think it was supposed to storm tonight.”

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