What He Wants Read online

  What He Wants (Dark Shades of Pleasure, Book 1)

  by

  Tawny Taylor

  Chapter 1

  “I’m sorry, but I just locked the house up.” I said to the handsome man who’d just come strolling up my mother’s front walk. Selling the house had been an absolute nightmare. Not just because the building brought so many memories to the surface, but also because it wasn’t in the best of shape. It was a great house in a wonderful neighborhood. If only I could get just one person to see past all the ugly linoleum, godawful paneling, and circa 70’s shag carpet.

  Twisting to look over my shoulder, I shot the man—who happened to be well dressed and gorgeous—a quick smile. “But if you give me a minute, I’ll make a quick phone call and then let you in.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thanks.” His voice was a low, rich rumble. For some reason, it resonated through my body, and the feeling of familiarity sparked inside me. Did I know this man?

  Once I had the lock engaged, I click-clacked out to my car, my pinched toes probably blistered, and flounced into the driver’s seat. I dug my phone out of my purse, and studied the strange man who didn’t seem to be a stranger as I called my best friend Jill to let her know I’d be a little late meeting her for lunch.

  Was the man another real estate agent, looking to list the house? Could be. His clothes were impeccable.

  A brief conversation—primarily ample apologies—and I had an extra forty-five minutes to not only figure out where I’d met the man before but also how to convince him to buy the house instead of sell it for me. I was getting seriously strapped, paying the utilities and property taxes on the place, in addition to my condo. Because of this silly need to cling to my childhood, I’d put off selling the place as long as I could. It was time to make something happen and move on.

  Determined I’d found the buyer for my mom’s place, I pasted on my best smile, fluffed my hair and headed back up to the front porch. As I unlocked the door, I said, “This house is a wonderful investment. It’s in a great location, on a dead end street. The neighborhood is excellent, a great place to raise a family.”

  “Hmmm.” The man walked inside. He moved with a rare fluidity for a male. I watched him as he wandered through the rooms on the first floor. Living room. Dining room. Kitchen (that was in dire need of a full gut job). The longer I studied him, the more I felt I knew him. Trying to concentrate on the house, I pointed out the beautiful, original hardwood floors, the baseboards and window and door trims, the lovely hand carved handrail.

  His wandering took us upstairs. He stopped outside of my mom’s bedroom and stared. It was then that I knew who he was.

  “Uncle” Shane.

  He wasn’t legally my uncle, no. That was just what I’d called him. I hadn’t seen him in…ten years, maybe. Since I was about twelve. Uncle Shane had been the subject of my first crush. Of course, he hadn’t known that at the time.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” he said.

  “Uncle Shane?”

  He scrutinized me closely, his intense gaze making me uneasy. “Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Bristol?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” I extended a hand. “It’s been a long time. A very long time. Good to see you again.”

  His hand enveloped mine. He shook it, stopped, but didn’t release it. His gaze was focused on my face. Sharp and intense. Assessing. “It’s good to see you again, too. Your mother was a good friend. I’m sorry I lost touch with her…and with you. I haven’t been in town for many years.”

  “I’m sure she understood.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I did. That was how Katherine was. Always understanding. Generous. Giving.”

  I couldn’t help saying, “Too generous sometimes. She nearly went bankrupt. And this house…it’s mortgaged for more than it’s worth. And you can see how well she kept it up. Mom always told me it didn’t matter, that the house was falling down around her. All that mattered was how many people she touched in her life.”

  His smile nearly took my breath away. For a man I guessed was within a handful of years of my mother’s age, he was strikingly handsome and fit. Ten years had done nothing to change that. His hair was very dark, almost black. Not curly. But not straight either. His features, as they had been then, were well balanced and masculine. Not pretty, but not too rugged either. And his body, from what I could tell, was also still in great shape. Shoulders broad. Waist narrow. His black jacket fit him perfectly, as if it had been sewn just for him. Same with the pants. The white shirt was a stark contrast against the jacket and the honey brown color of his skin. The only thing a decade had done was add a sprinkling of silver hairs glinting at his temples, just enough to make him look sexy and distinguished.

  “Katherine Deatrich was a one-of-a-kind woman.” He turned, facing me. “Why are you selling the house?”

  “I can’t afford the mortgage payments or the upkeep, and it’s too big. I live alone…unless you count my cat.”

  “I see.” He reached up, caught a curl that had flopped over my face and tucked it behind my ear. For some reason, the intimate touch sent me careening back into that old place, back into the childhood crush. Our gazes tangled, and my heart did a little hop in my chest. “I can’t get over how much you’ve changed.”

  “Kids do that,” I said, holding my breath.

  “They do. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  He shook his head. “Damn. Where’s the time gone?”

  Still feeling a little wobbly, I shrugged. “I couldn’t say.” I motioned to the bedroom. “Erm, the master bath is a nice size.”

  “Oh, yes. The house.” He glanced around, almost as if he’d forgotten where he was. “I’ll take it. What are you asking?”

  My insides did a flip flop. Could it be I’d just sold the house? Or was he just playing with me? “Three forty-nine, nine. That’s the balance of the mortgage. I’m not making a penny from the sale.”

  “No agent?”

  “No, I didn’t want to have to pay another five to ten percent out of pocket. The closing costs alone are going to kill me.”

  “I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers and schedule the closing with the title company.”

  This couldn’t have gone any better. It was honestly too good to be true, which made me a little nervous. Thankfully, my best friend was an attorney. She’d offered to handle the closing for me pro bono. “I already have someone.”

  “Fine.” He reached in his inside jacket pocket, pulled out a card. “I’ll be expecting a call then.”

  “Do you need time to secure financing?” I asked. My fingertips brushed his as I took the card from him.

  “No, I’ll be paying cash.”

  Cash. I couldn’t imagine paying three hundred fifty thousand dollars cash for anything. “Wonderful! We’ll be seeing each other soon, then.”

  “Soon.” He took my hand again, and little buzzing electrical charges seemed to zap between us. I couldn’t believe it. After all this time, ten years, there was still something there. I wondered if he felt it too. “Goodbye, Bristol. It was a nice surprise, running into you today.”

  *

  Three weeks later, I slid a cashier’s check into my purse.

  Jill congratulated me with a sparkly-faced grin. “How are you feeling, now that the house is officially gone?”

  “Relieved.” An understatement.

  “Excellent. Want to go celebrate?” she asked, smoothing a few stray away amber hued hairs that had slipped out of her slick bun. “I have a few loose ends to wrap up, but I can be ready to go in about an hour.”

  “Sure. Okay. I guess…” I said, following her from the building. “I could go run a few errands while I wait.”

  “Co
ol. See you soon.” She tossed her briefcase into her sparkly new Subaru, and climbed in. I threw her a wave before unlocking the door to my trusty old Toyota. As I was pulling it open, a car pulled up behind mine and parked. Out of habit, I glanced at it.

  The door opened and a man stepped out.

  A man I recognized.

  Oh God, please tell me he isn’t having buyer’s remorse already.

  I smiled, though it probably wasn’t one of my brightest.

  “I was hoping I’d catch you,” he said as he strolled toward me.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” He leaned against my car’s trunk, and immediately I regretted not having washed the car in weeks. Those impeccable black pants weren’t going to look so impeccable in a minute. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner?”

  “When?”

  “Tonight? Now?”

  “Oh, I…” Have plans. But what the hell? “I think that’ll be okay. But I need to make a call first.”

  “Sure. You can do that while we’re driving.” He reached around me, pushing my car door closed. My nerves buzzed at his nearness. Wow, was there some serious chemistry there.

  I hit the button on my key fob, locking the doors and followed him to his car. Nice car. Black. Sleek. BMW. And it smelled really nice inside. Like leather and expensive cologne and man. He got the engine purring while I buckled in. And within moments, we were backing out of the parking spot.

  “I hope you enjoy the house,” I said as I fished in my purse for my phone. “It really is a wonderful old building. With some TLC, it could be spectacular.”

  “I have big plans for the place.” He smiled as he steered the car through the parking lot. “I hope you’ll come see it when the renovations are finished.” At the driveway, he hit his turn signal, waiting for a break in traffic.

  “I’d love to. I’m just glad the house has gone to someone who could see its full potential.”

  “That’s one thing I’ve always been good at—seeing the full potential of things…and people.” He turned his attention to me. “But in your case, I vastly underestimated you. I knew you’d grow up to be a beautiful woman. But I had no idea you’d be so stunning.”

  My cheeks warmed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Turning his focus back on the road, Shane hit the gas and we zoomed out onto the clogged street.

  “You know—this is embarrassing, and I don’t know why I’m telling you, but what the hell?—I had a crush on you when I was a kid.”

  His grin was charming and genuine. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “But I was an old man.”

  “Older but not old. And charming. And nice. And you talked to me like I was an adult.”

  We pulled up to a light, and he glanced at me. “You were always mature for your age.”

  “Being the only child of my mother, it would be impossible for me to be otherwise.”

  He chuckled. The light turned green, and once again, we were humming along, zigging and zagging through traffic. “I could see that. The truth was, I respected you.”

  “Respected?” A twelve year old? That surprised me.

  “And now that we’ve reconnected, I respect you even more.” He turned the car into a parking lot. Maggiano’s. I’d eaten there before. “Is this okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He parked and we headed inside. We shared a plate of spinach dip and drank wine and exchanged compliments. He told me about the wife he’d lost while he’d been living in Spain (Spain!), and the children he’d never had. The joys of his life and regrets. And I told him about losing Mom, finishing school, and the bumpy start to my career. The chemistry kept building and building with each minute we spent together. By the time our stomachs were full and our wine glasses empty, I was hoping I’d get a kiss, a real one with hands grasping and tongues twining.

  Shane Trant was a hundred times more the man than my juvenile mind could have comprehended. He was intelligent, successful, charming. And he emanated a certain male power, charisma, confidence. I was mesmerized. And a little nervous, too.

  At the end of the meal, he paid the bill then led me back to the car, placing a hand on the small of my back. That touch was so distracting I almost went the wrong way when we stepped outside. In fact, I started walking around the wrong side of the building, and he grabbed my shoulders to stop me and turned me back around, facing him.

  My gaze jerked up, to his face.

  He was looking down at me, eyes glimmering.

  “The dinner was delicious, thank you,” I said, staring at his mouth. Could it be any more perfect? Kiss me, please. Kiss me now.

  He licked his lips. His head tipped. A muscle on his jaw clenched. “You are something else.”

  “Tell me more. I never tire of compliments.”

  His laughter seemed to vibrate through my whole body. One of his hands cupped my cheek. I flattened my hand on his and held my breath. The moment was magical, and I wanted it to last a lifetime. Erotic energy was arcing through the still night air, leaping from his big, hard body to mine, zinging along my nerves, igniting little blazes everywhere.

  But then he said, “I think I’d better take you back to your car now.”

  You could kiss me first. “I’m in no hurry to go home.”

  “Hmmmm.” The hand that was holding my cheek wandered south a little, fingers curling around my neck. It was a strange way to hold me, a strange place. But it excited me, thrilled me. “You don’t know me. Maybe it’s better you keep it that way.”

  “What do you mean? Of course I know you. I’ve known you for years.”

  “But not really.”

  I didn’t understand. Was he hiding something? Was he not the man I thought? What I saw was a sexy man, a widower, an old friend, and a successful businessman who had turned his father’s one-man operation into a multi-billion dollar corporation. I also saw a man who could make my blood simmer with just a look. “What do you mean by that? Are you dangerous?”

  “You might say that.” His hold on my neck tightened a tiny bit. It was just enough for me to notice, make me shiver a little, but not enough to make me really scared.

  “Dangerous, how?”

  “Just dangerous…” Moving fast, he grabbed both my arms and jerked them around my back. My heart jumped. I gasped. “Like this,” he said, tipping his head lower, whispering. “Dangerous, like needing things you might not be ready for.”

  “What kind of things?”

  He gathered my wrists into one fist and walked me backward until my body was smashed between him and the side of the restaurant. It felt so good, being trapped like this, powerless and waiting breathlessly for his next move. I didn’t have to wait long. His mouth slammed against mine. His lips smoothed over mine, and his tongue shoved into my mouth. He tasted so good, like man and wine. He felt so good, hard and hot. He smelled so good too, of need and woodsy cologne.

  I surrendered willingly. His kiss was a possession. Hard and demanding and feral. Intoxicating. Wild rushes of erotic need slammed through me with every flick of his tongue, and I moaned into our joined mouths. I ached. I wanted more. I needed more.

  When he broke the kiss, I whimpered. He didn’t back away. His body was crushed against mine, and I was so glad about that. My pelvis rolled forward and back in time to the pounding heat throbbing in my center.

  “Dammit.” He jerked back, stared at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re Katherine’s daughter.”

  “So what? I’m an adult.”

  “But—“

  “But, what?” I didn’t understand what his problem was. Clearly, he was feeling guilty because he was Mom’s old friend. But that wasn’t a problem for me. “Like I said, I’m an adult.”

  “Yes, so I can see.” As if to illustrate, his gaze shifted south, landing at roughly boob level.

  “So, treat me like one.”

  His eyes n
arrowed for a brief moment. Then he took my hand in his. “Okay.” He hurried me back to his car, circled around the rear to open my door. Once I was in my seat, he went around to the driver’s side, folded his large frame into his seat and within seconds we were roaring down the road. “But I have an idea you’ll change your mind about this.”

  Chapter 2

  What the hell is this?

  I was stunned.

  I was speechless.

  I was in complete shock.

  I had been wrong, when I’d thought I knew Shane Trant. How wrong I had been.

  We were at his house, which was completely gorgeous. It was one of those high priced condos in town. He had the top two floors of an industrial building turned luxury condominiums. Huge and gorgeous, furnished with stuff that looked expensive and probably cost a crap ton of money. Recently, I’d started watching home design shows on TV. I’d developed something of an eye for quality. Shane’s house was like a showroom, full of priceless antiques, mixed with sleek, high-priced contemporary furniture. An interesting combination.

  Something like the man, himself, now that I thought about it.

  That had come as no surprise. I’d expected he would have a nice home.

  The problem was one particular room. This one.

  It was, for lack of better words, a torture chamber. Dotting the landscape were pieces of creepy looking furniture with big metal rings and heavy chains bolted to it. And in one corner stood a human-sized metal cage. And there were rings bolted to the floor and ceiling. What were those for? I shuddered as I imagined a woman chained up, begging to be freed.

  His bulky body was leaning against the doorframe, blocking my exit. “So, now you see why I told you I couldn’t…I wouldn’t take things to the next level?” he asked. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman. And I want you. But I’m not the man for you. Because this is what you get.”

  “I didn’t know.” I was hugging myself, arms wrapped protectively around my torso.

  “You know now.” He motioned for me to leave the torture chamber.

  I just couldn’t believe it. This…awful place…belonged to Uncle Shane. Handsome, mysterious, sexy Shane Trant. My mother’s oldest and dearest friend.