TAMED BY THE DOM
Guilty Pleasures 3
JAN BOWLES
Copyright © 2011
Chapter One
Colt Donahue eased the SUV from his private estate and onto the trunk road. Today he was in a particularly good frame of mind. He’d just taken a call from some potential clients. If they joined, that would make twenty extra this month alone. Business was looking up. Now, at the age of thirty-seven, he finally felt like he was getting somewhere. He’d tapped into a market that had the potential to make him a very wealthy man. That’s if the people of Fairfax didn’t raise any more objections. The smile on his face faded. He felt pretty sure they’d find something to complain about. They always did.
Up ahead, Colt could see a Jaguar career around the bend. The driver had little or no regard for anyone else on the road.
“That’s right, prick, take my half of the road, too.”
Well, he wasn’t going to move, that’s for sure. He had right of way. The sleek silver car kept coming, a huge cloud of dust in its wake.
“What the fuck?” He only just managed to avoid a collision by turning his SUV into the ditch. His car came to an abrupt halt. “Goddamn it, Jesus.”
He looked into his rearview mirror, anger surging through him. A woman wearing dark glasses and long black hair disappeared from sight. He shook his head in disbelief. Some rich bitch had just driven him off the road. Well, there was no way he’d let her get away with it. He turned his car around in pursuit, sounding his horn as he came up behind her. It had no effect. She didn’t stop or even slow down. Her stereo was on full blast, and her head swayed to the beat of the music as she made her way along the High Street. His anger grew by the minute, and he slammed his fist down hard on the horn several times. Still no effect. Just wait until she stopped her car. He’d have plenty to say to her. Several people came out of the shops to see what all the commotion was about.
When she pulled into a side street and parked outside a cat sanctuary, he jerked on his handbrake and stormed from the car.
It occurred to him that she probably thought more of animals than people, and his resentment grew. By the time he’d walked over to the gleaming Jaguar, she’d stilled the engine and switched off the loud music. He wondered why she sat staring at the double-fronted Colonial house when a closed sign hung from the door. Everyone knew the owner had recently died.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, lady? Don’t you know you just ran me off the road?”
The woman was small and petite, and he guessed the car was much too large for her to handle. Her hands were on the steering wheel, gripping tightly so the knuckles showed white. Without removing her sunglasses, she looked at him. For a moment he thought she regretted her actions, and then she spoke.
“Don’t blame me for your inadequacies.”
This was not the answer he’d been hoping for. “You must have a death wish or something, lady.”
“Nothing of the kind, I just drove into town. Are you sure you didn’t drive off the road by yourself?”
His blood boiled, and he leaned down to her level. “I’ve a good mind to report you for dangerous driving.”
“Any witnesses?” She opened the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk. He towered over her. He realized she couldn’t be more than five foot three. The car was obviously way too powerful for her.
“No, it would be my word against yours.”
“Then I think I would win the argument, don’t you?”
“How do you make that out, lady?”
“I’ve heard all about you and what you get up to at your private club. There’s plenty of folks around here would like to see the back of you.”
He rubbed a hand though his hair, aware that she’d turned the argument around. Now it seemed he had to defend himself. Was there no justice in the world? “How do you know what I do?”
“You don’t remember me, do you, Colt.” She removed her sunglasses. Her eyes looked red as though she’d just been crying, and she blinked several times from the harsh sunlight.
He assessed her appearance. Beautiful raven black hair fell about her shoulders and shone from the noonday sun. A small, round face with the most incredible hazel eyes he’d ever seen stared back. Her lips were like cherries, ripe and glossy, and her clothes were of the finest quality.
For the life of him he’d never laid eyes on her before. He shook his head, wondering if it was a ruse to divert him from her terrible driving. “Are you sure we’ve met?”
“I was two grades below you. I’m Katrina.”
She still didn’t register with him. The only Katrina he could remember had been a geeky girl who wore thick glasses.
She continued. “You stepped in once to stop a group of girls from taking my lunch from me.”
It all slotted into place. He shook his head. Talk about blossoming. “You’re Katrina Masters. I remember now.” He pointed to the cat sanctuary. “Your mother just died. She was a good woman. I’m really sorry.”
She nodded and turned away for a moment. He could see her bite her bottom lip as she resisted the urge to cry. “Yes, I’ve come back for her funeral,” she whispered.
All his anger dissipated. “Look, I’ll leave you in peace.” He began to walk away, but turned to face her again. “Listen, Katrina, a word of advice. Get yourself a smaller car.”
“I’ve a few words of advice for you, too, Colt. Mind your own fucking business.”
* * * *
Kat watched Colt Donahue drive away in his BMW. The boy she’d had a crush on more than twenty years ago was even better looking now. He’d filled out, and the dimples she’d admired as a young girl were even more defined. They made him look incredibly sexy. It was ironic that he’d only noticed her the once, when a group of shitty girls had tried to steal her lunch. High school had never been a pleasant experience for her, but Colt made an impact that day, in a big way.
Too bad he was running some private deviants’ club up on his ranch. Her mother had been full of it and had spoken of little else on the telephone. The townsfolk were up in arms, determined to put an end to his unsavory enterprise. She guessed he’d move on soon enough. Fairfax wasn’t a place to stay around if you didn’t fit in, as she knew only too well.
When she’d been much younger, Fairfax, a small town in Central Texas, had been a backwater. The local residents had fought against change, clinging on to yesterday, frightened of tomorrow. It was one of the reasons why she’d left. That and a mother who said she’d never amount to anything. As soon as she turned eighteen, she’d hightailed it out of there, determined to make her fortune and prove her mother wrong.
Only the fortune had never materialized.
After a succession of failed relationships, pride was the only thing she had left. She was hardly going to admit to being a failure. That’s why she’d borrowed a hundred thousand dollars to buy the Jag and some new expensive designer clothes. There was no way she’d return to Fairfax penniless. It would make some people very happy to see her on her knees. So what if she couldn’t make the payments on the loan. Her mother had left a house and everything in it. After the funeral, when the dust had settled, she’d be able to pay it all back. That was the plan, because the guy she’d borrowed the money from didn’t approve of late payments. She had no doubt he would send a couple of undesirable hoods to pay her a visit, rather than a stiff letter from the bank.
Dismissing the unpleasant thoughts from her mind, Kat turned and stared at the impressive façade of her mother’s house. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to go inside.
As she opened the front door and stepped over the threshold, the unmistakable smell of cat urine and stale air filled her nostrils. It had been seventeen years since she’d last seen the interior, and from the look of the hallway and living area, it hadn’t changed a bit. The effects of sixty years of her mother’s life lay scattered all around. It was an eclectic mixture of antique furniture and hippie memorabilia. Mary Lou Masters had been an eccentric to say the least. Maybe that’s why Kat felt she’d never really fitted in. She’d had few friends at school, another reason why she’d left Fairfax at such an early age. When you had a mother who was known as “The Cat Lady” by the locals, it was hardly surprising she felt like an oddball.
A tear rolled down her cheek when she entered her mother’s bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a pillow to her face. She breathed in, trying to capture her essence. The familiar comforting smell soothed her frayed nerves, and she squeezed the pillow tight against her body.
Guilt overwhelmed her. “Momma, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” All these years she stayed away, afraid to return and own up to being a failure.
Try as she might she could never amass any money of her own. There was always something that would come along and distract her. It usually came in the form of a great-looking guy who’d sweet-talk her into bed. The very same guy who would be gone by the time she’d woken the following morning. Why had she borrowed one hundred thousand dollars? Who was she trying to impress? She guessed that no one in Fairfax really cared what Katrina Masters had done with her life. It was just as well because she’d done jack shit. She’d achieved absolutely nothing. If she couldn’t make the payments on her loan, the hoods would come looking for her. That’s if they could find her.
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