Page 56 of What About Love

“I do,” she said, with her own to her lips.

Val waved at their waitress and deadpanned, “I guess we’re forced to have another round to cool off.”

When her gaze shifted to hers with an amused tilt to her lips, Angie laughed for the first time since their plane touched down at LAX.

As they chatted over an extended lunch, which she’d never had the luxury of partaking in while working as a detective for the SAPD, she felt a little guilty. “I feel funny about taking off while on the clock, and in the middle of a murder investigation.”

“Nonsense,” the bubbly blonde said as she reached for the check. “You worked late last night, and will again tonight, not to mention this weekend. Besides, you’ve gotta eat. You’ll find working for Rossi, you have to take your downtime when you can get it.”

She put her credit card in the check holder and set it at the end of the table, which was instantly snatched up by their passing waitress.

“I can pay for mine,” Angie exclaimed, reaching for her wallet.

“Don’t worry about it. Eric will expense it. This is a working lunch. The same goes for our next stop, which is to get you club wear for tonight and tomorrow. You can’t attract a serial killer in a T-shirt and flip-flops.”

The way she’d said it so calmly, like her assignment was as commonplace as a traffic stop, made Angie laugh.

“You’re not fazed by this at all, are you?”

“I am, though I’ve learned to keep it inside. The club members use Eric and me by default as a barometer. If we panic, they will, too. Therefore, we keep our freak-outs under wraps and save it for each other behind closed doors. No matter what kind of shitstorm, excuse my French, we’re grappling with.”

Any other time, especially with three sakes under her belt, she would have giggled at the consummate professional using such a term. “I didn’t mean to make light of the situation.”

She waved her off. “Eric and all the ex-military men at Rossi are a bad influence, I guess. Or probably, no definitely, it’s the sake.”

Amusement flickered in the eyes that met hers. She liked Val a lot.

“As an ex-cop, I’m used to rough talk, but being a barometer for the entire club, that must be tough.”

“Not really, although sometimes it can be exhausting. The BDSM world is not without drama.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that real quick.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Sometimes it reminds me of high school with Eric as the principal and me in the counselor role. When word got out that I’m a licensed therapist, the subs started coming to me for advice. As master dom, all the members, not only the doms, take their problems to Eric. Sometimes it’s about rules and such, but 99 percent of the time it’s relationship woes. Either my dom won’t commit, my sub can’t come when we scene in public, or I want a threesome, but she doesn’t. What should I do?”

“You’re kidding,” Angie breathed.

“Nope, and those are the G-rated requests. We try to leave it at the door when we leave, but when we can’t, we support each other. When he’s not in his role as the club’s big, bad, authoritative, uber dom, he’s funny, an amazing listener, and super romantic. All of which I love. And the sex...” She looked up at Angie, a bit flushed. “Is this too much information? If so, tell me. The members at the club are so free about their sex lives, I forget sometimes.”

“It’s okay, really. My cousins are in the lifestyle and several friends, so I hear it.”

“Your cousin is Megan, right? Cap’s wife?”

“Yeah, and her twin sister, Regan, is married to another club owner, Rick Spencer.”

“I’ve met Cap. He’s nice, though rather intimidating.”

“He can be. I’ve seen it at the club and as an employee a time or two recently. It’s the military background, I think. Plus, he was an officer and most of the guys reported to him.”

“The need for control, structure, and a chain of command. I see that in Eric, too. He was a Marine.”

“I think that’s why he and Rick, and most of the guys to some extent, let the dom thing bleed over into their private lives, but the twins don’t seem to mind.”

Val’s eyes twinkled. “Military or not, that’s all dom. For some men, it comes naturally. It’s ingrained in their personality makeup. They can’t power off the need to protect and defend, or the take-charge attitude like a light switch. Although it would be nice for us girls if we could flip their switch off every once in a while.”

Like this morning, when T followed her into her bedroom as though he had every right to inspect her for damage.

“I’ve come to realize that having a good dom is worth putting up with a little bleed over. It’s a give-and-take with me and Eric. We give what the other needs, and when our time comes, we take back just as much.”

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