The Cowboy From Down Under (Cowboys After Dark: Book 2) Read online

Giving into temptation she grabbed the key and unlocked the door, but when she attempted to return the key to the drawer, the door quickly closed behind her.

  Damn. I guess I’ll just keep it with me and come back around when I’m done.

  Returning to the door she unlocked it a second time, and dropped the key in the pocket of her slacks. Walking into the dimly lit, expansive area, she passed the inviting pool, and into the women’s dressing room.

  Finding the light switch she flipped it on, and having no reason to worry about anyone taking her things, after donning her swimsuit she left her clothes and bag on a chair, but as she was about to head out to the pool she thought she heard a voice. Pressing her ear to the door she listened intently; she’d been right, but it wasn’t a single voice, it was a man and woman.

  Oh, no, but how did they get in? I’ve got the key?

  Cracking open the door she peered out. The only light was cast by the moon, but she was able to discern a blonde woman laying on a deck chair wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy panties, and a man in a robe standing over her. She watched, engrossed, as the man leaned down and kissed the lovely girl as he slowly fondled her breasts.

  Probably a couple of staff members using the pool after hours. I’ll bet they’d be in more trouble than me if they were caught. Hmmm, I wonder if they’ll stay very long. Maybe I should wait a few minutes.

  Not a good idea. What if they come in here for some reason?

  Ah, right. Better hop it.

  As she passed the vanity she paused, spotting a hairbrush wrapped in clear plastic. Having left hers in the room she picked it up, but as she did, to her absolute horror, a small black spider crawled out from underneath and marched towards her hand.

  Panic seized her, and letting out a shrill squeal she hurled it back down, but there was no aim to her throw, and it landed against a small glass jar of cotton balls smashing it into pieces. Two terror-filled thoughts simultaneously flashed through her addled brain; where was the spider, and how long would it take for the couple to come and investigate? Racing back to the chair she grabbed her clothes to make her escape.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The deep Australian voice came from behind her, and she recognized it immediately. Horrified, and praying she was wrong, she slowly turned around.

  “You!” he exclaimed.

  The man from seat 1A , his robe tied around his waist, was sporting an angry scowl. Heart pounding, holding her clothes in front of her in a vain attempt at modesty, she flashed her eyes back at him.

  “Me? I could ask you the same question. At least I was just here for a swim, not…not…that!” she declared, waving an arm towards to the door.

  “You were spying on us?” he demanded.

  “No, I wasn’t spying on you. Jeez, I was heading out and-”

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” he interrupted. “What the hell are you doing here, and how did you get in?”

  “How the hell did YOU get in?” she retorted.

  Already tall and imposing, he squared his shoulders and took a step towards her. Rarely did Emma feel intimidated, but at that moment he looked larger than life, and his anger was almost palpable.

  “I got in because I happen to own this hotel,” he growled. “Now it’s your turn; how did you get in?”

  Shit. You own this place? Noooo….

  “I’m a patient man, but it’s wearing thin,” he pressed, his voice low and deep, his grey eyes shooting daggers.

  “Fine!” she replied, trying to keep up a brave front. “I took the key from the desk and let myself in. What kind of hotel closes its pool at night anyway?”

  “The kind of hotel that cares about the welfare of its patrons,” he said tersely, “and one that follows strict safety guidelines. You, on the other hand, seem to have no regard for such things. What’s your name?” he demanded.

  “Emma, Emma Harrison,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, “and you’re making too much of this. It’s no big deal.”

  “It’s a very big deal,” he frowned, but as he moved closer, staring at her, Emma thought she saw a flicker of recognition.

  “I wasn’t bothering anyone,” she protested.

  “I should call the police,” he continued, “and have you arrested right now. Someone needs to teach you a lesson. Your nastiness on the plane was bad enough, but stealing a key and breaking in here to use the facilities, and then spying on people having a private moment, you’ve crossed a line, several lines,” he scolded.

  “Here’s your stupid key,” she bristled.

  Frantically pulling it out of the pocket of her slacks still bundled in her arms, she threw it at him, furious that he’d reprimanded her as if she were a child.

  “Now prove I took it. My word against yours.”

  He stared down at the key on the floor, and slowly crossed his arms.

  “The reception area has twenty-four-hour video surveillance, so proving what you’ve done will not be an issue. You’re just a brat in a woman’s body. You should be spanked.”

  A bevy of butterflies flew to life, but staring back at him it dawned on her that perhaps she could extricate herself from her dire predicament.

  “Fine, then spank me,” she dared him.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Stay here,” he said brusquely, and abruptly turned and marched from the locker room.

  Shit, I can’t get arrested. What a nightmare that would be. God, I hope he goes for it.

  But as much as she wanted him to accept the option, she couldn’t deny her trepidation. Marcus had warmed her bottom innumerable times, but that was different, completely different. For a stranger to take his hand to her backside was something else entirely. The door swung open, and he strode back in, glaring at her.

  “Very well, I’ll accept your suggestion, but I won’t go easy on you,” he warned. “I’ll tan your arse good.”

  His accent was as thick as the cream she’d had on her fruit tart at lunch, and though she didn’t know why, it made him seem all the more menacing.

  “I’m sure, but how do I know you won’t call the police anyway?” she demanded.

  His frown deepened, and he stared at the ground, shaking his head, then slowly lifted his eyes.

  “What kind of world do you come from?”

  “That’s not an answer,” she stammered.

  “Down here a man doesn’t break his word. Now am I spankin’ you or calling the Police.”

  She sighed heavily.

  You can’t go getting yourself arrested. It would be a disaster. Just do it.

  “Yes, okay, a spanking,” she mumbled.

  “Ask me.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she declared, staring at him.

  “You’ve go three-seconds, one, two-”

  “Okay, okay, please will you spank me.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I took the flipping key and broke in here,” she snapped.

  “Still with the attitude?”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “What else?”

  “Because I watched you for a few seconds, and I was rude to that flight attendant.”

  He studied her for a moment, then let out a dramatic sigh.

  “Boy, you really need your butt smacked. Go and put your elbows on the counter of the vanity, the one that isn’t covered in broken glass,” he ordered, “and leave your clothes here.”

  Returning her clothes to the chair, and wishing she’d thought to dress while he was gone, she scurried to the second vanity across the room. She could feel him following her, and as she placed her elbows on the cold, hard, marble surface, she glanced in the mirror and watched him approach.

  “Place your palms down flat and don’t move them,” said tersely.

  To her horror he pulled her swimsuit up into her crack, and as he wiped his hand over her exposed bottom, she felt the hot embarrassment wash across her face.

  “You need this like y
ou need to breathe,” he proclaimed, “and I hope you learn from it. Close your eyes. I’m going to give you ten hard swats with a hairbrush on each cheek, then you’re free to go. First ten, for being such a witch on the plane, second ten, for breaking in here. They’ll be quick and they’ll sting but it’s nothing less than you deserve. Maybe you’ll think twice before you take your foul mood out on another innocent young woman, and if I catch you doing anything illegal in this hotel during the rest of your stay, I will call the police,” he scolded. “Got it?”

  “Yes, I do, I swear,” she replied vehemently. “I’m sorry, honestly.”

  “Not as sorry as you’re about to be,” he declared. “Now close your eyes and keep them that way.”

  “I will,” she swore, gritting her teeth.

  Reaching past her, he picked up a brush from the vanity, and as he threatened the back of it across her skin she grit her teeth, preparing for the hot smacks that were about to whack her butt. As she felt the brush lift, she prayed he’d get it over with quickly, but the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. She ached to open her eyes but was afraid to do so, worried he was testing her, but finally she stole a quick glance in the mirror, only to find he was nowhere in sight.

  “Hello?” she called.

  The thick silence told her he was gone.

  He’d succeeded in deeply humiliating her, and the way she felt he may as well have spanked her. The entire scenario had been bizarre; a complete stranger had just scared the living daylights out of her, and in an odd way she felt disappointed.

  The key with the pink string was gone from the floor where it had landed, and as tempted as she was to peek back into the swimming pool area, she had no desire to tempt fate a second time.

  A few minutes later, standing at the bar drinking a very dry martini, finding herself wishing he had spanked her, and relieved he’d not called the police, she finally managed to catch her breath.

  What a way to start this trip.

  As she sipped her drink it dawned on her that Mr. 1A, whoever he was, had just delivered the first solid scolding she’d received in years, and an odd, not unpleasant tumbling moved through her stomach.

  Back at the pool, Mr. 1A, whose name was Fred Freeman, had taken his wife, Jennifer, into the men’s locker room to wait until he was sure Emma Harrison had left. He’d allowed Jennifer to listen to the scolding, but his wife had no clue as to the identity of their unwelcome intruder.

  “What did you think?” he asked, as they sat on one of the benches.

  “She deserved to be spanked,” Jennifer replied, furious that someone had been spying on them.

  “She certainly did, but you know I’m not going to spank anyone except my lovely wife,” he winked. “Besides, I think that might be taken care of by someone else.”

  “What do you mean?” Jennifer asked.

  “You didn’t hear her say her name, did you?” Fred asked mysteriously.

  “No. You mean it wasn’t some random guest?” she frowned.

  “Nope, it was none other than Emma Harrison,” he declared.

  “Crikey!” she exclaimed. “Are you going to tell Derrick?”

  “Of course, I have to.”

  “He’s in for a humdinger of a shock, isn’t he?” she remarked, rolling her eyes.

  “Yep, but you know as well as I do, if anyone can handle a spitfire like that, he can.”

  “It’ll be weird if he brings her to our place for dinner when we get back,” she frowned. “I’m ticked off twice now, I really wanted to meet her.”

  “Let’s just see what happens. Things might work out, you never know,” he said knowingly. “I have a feeling Miss Harrison is about to meet her match.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that she was finally able to sleep, and it came only after she’d rubbed herself to a gratifying climax.

  During her travels she’d recall one of her many trysts with Marcus to bring herself to the all-important release, but her mind had taken her elsewhere. In her fantasy she was over the vanity, her bottom was burning as she was being spanked with gusto, but the man in question was an unseen stranger.

  The orgasm had been sharp and intense, and as she’d drifted off she thought it completely bizarre; she’d not had fantasies about anyone other than Marcus since they’d starting seeing each other three years before. In her fantasy the man was faceless, it wasn’t Mr. 1A, but a strong, no-nonsense man who had decided she needed to be disciplined.

  When she finally awoke it was almost noon, and stepping under the shower, the hot water on her backside reminded her of her clandestine thoughts, bringing a smile to her face. Feeling absolutely ravenous she decided to dine at the hotel restaurant rather than search out another place to eat. She had an appointment with the tour company at 1 p.m., giving her just enough time to eat and catch a cab.

  Wandering into the chic dining room she glanced around, looking to see if Mr. 1A was there, and to her relief he was nowhere to be seen. The hostess approached, led her to a table by the window, and as she sat down she gazed out at the street, her mind wandering.

  Happily married, what a concept. She sure looked thrilled to see him at the airport. I wonder if he spanks her. Could I ever be in a relationship like that? Getting my rocks off is one thing, but to live it…

  The waiter approached, announced all kinds of appetizing specials, and she settled on a local fish called Barramundi. It was a delicious choice, and after cleaning her plate and downing two cups of coffee, she’d signed her check and had just stood up when she heard his voice. Lifting her gaze she stared across the room and saw him pulling out a chair for the beautiful blonde woman, his wife.

  Holding her breath she moved quickly through the restaurant, and stepping outside she asked the doorman to hail her a cab. A few minutes later, as she climbed into the back seat, she let out a long, heavy sigh.

  Wow. This is all so weird. Am I attracted to him? No, I can’t be. Maybe I’m attracted to what he is, a man who has no compunction about throwing a woman over his knee.

  Wriggling on the seat, she pushed him from her thoughts and focused on her meeting ahead.

  The travel company the publishing company had engaged was called Aussie Tours, Luxury Outback Excursions, and as the cab drove across the Sydney Harbor Bridge on its way to the North Shore, she marveled at the towering gigantic girders, and the beautiful harbor glistening below.

  The North Shore was quieter, with less traffic and bustle, and as the taxi pulled up to the address she’d been given, she was delighted to see several Range Rovers parked in the lot, along with a couple of Mercedes SUV’s and Land Cruisers. She paid the driver, tipping him well, and headed through the large glass doors into a gleaming, contemporary reception area.

  “Emma Harrison,” she announced, approaching the desk.

  “Yes, Ron Hammond has been expecting you. Right this way,” the young receptionist smiled.

  The girl was smartly dressed, and briskly led Emma down a wide corridor, the walls of which boasted oversized black and white photographs of the outback. The landscape looked more rugged than Emma had expected, but the pictures had a grittiness to them that could explain the feeling they emanated. As a photographer she knew how a lens, or an angle, or lighting, could affect the way a subject matter was perceived.

  The receptionist pushed open a door and gestured for Emma to enter. Walking forward she was met by a tall, robust, slightly overweight man, wearing a khaki shirt and slacks.

  “Nice to meet you,” he grinned. “Got a bit of a surprise for you.”

  “You do?” Another one? This trip has been nothing but surprises since the moment I stepped on the plane!

  “Derrick Palmer himself is here. He had to come into town on some urgent business, so he’s going to be taking you back to his property personally.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Emma beamed.

  “Glad you approve,” a deep voice declared behind her.

 
Emma had seen pictures of the wealthy landowner, but they bore little resemblance to the handsome man standing in the doorway. The pictures had shown a puffy face, but the man was square-jawed and chiseled, with bright brown eyes. Dressed in a denim shirt, jeans, and lizard skin boots, he looked as if he’d just jumped out of a Hollywood western, the only thing missing was the hat.

  “You look surprised,” he chuckled.

  “Your photographs do not do you justice,” she flirted. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen when I’m behind the camera.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” he admitted. “Mind you, those photographs were taken years back. I’m not one to invite much publicity.”

  “I’d made a list of some areas you might find interesting,” Ron interrupted, “but now that Derrick will be your tour guide I can throw it away.”

  “I’ve got a few things in mind,” Derrick nodded. “What say you and I grab a coffee,” he suggested, turning to Emma and throwing her a broad smile. “Get to know each other a bit before I pick you up tomorrow?”

  “I’d like that,” she twinkled, I’d like that a whole lot.

  “There’s decent place around the corner.”

  “Perfect, and Ron, thank you.”

  Derrick opened the door and ushered her out, and as they made their way down the hall she glanced up at him.

  “You’re tall,” she remarked, then realized the comment had come out of nowhere.

  “Did you think us Aussie’s were short?” he chuckled, stepping into the elevator.

  “No, not at all, sorry, but you’re not what I expected.”

  “Everyone says that. Not that I meet many strangers, I’m more a background person, but everyone thinks I’m too young to be doing what I’m doing. I just look it, I’m actually 57,” he declared as he opened the door that led them outside.

  “You are not,” she laughed, “are you?” she quickly added, wondering if he really was an anomaly.

  “I am,” he replied, staring back at her completely straight-faced, but a moment later laughed out loud.

  “You’re terrible,” she exclaimed, punching his arm.

  “Easy there, I punch back,” he warned, raising his eyebrows.