The Stuntman Read online

  “Sure,” she laughed.

  “No, I’ll text it to you. Don’t leave until I do. I don’t want to be responsible for you driving into a bus.”

  “Wow. It must be something wicked. Okay, I’ll wait.”

  Climbing into her car, she watched him in her rear view mirror as he strode to his bike and pulled out his phone. Butterflies dancing she waited, and when her phone chimed, even though she’d been expecting it, her heart skipped a beat. Opening the message she read:

  You have a gorgeous ass.

  She threw back her head and laughed out loud, then blushing furiously she wrote back:

  How do you know? You haven’t seen it yet.

  His reply popped up immediately.

  I like the yet part. I’ll call you soon.

  Heart pumping and feeling slightly giddy, she started up her peppy car and drove from the parking lot with the thrill of his promise running through her veins.

  Wow, I can’t believe it. I’m so glad I did this.

  Still standing next to his bike, Blake sat on the saddle and shook his head.

  I’m so glad I came, but how the hell am I gonna tell her I’m a stuntman?

  Chapter Three

  It was three days later that their schedules coincided and they could meet for dinner. They had talked on the phone a few times, and though he’d been tempted to tell her about his profession he’d decided to wait until they were face-to-face. He wanted to see her reaction up close and personal. It was late morning, and he’d called her to confirm their arrangements for that night.

  “I’m an old-fashioned guy, and I understand why you want to meet me at the restaurant and it’s fine, as long as you know I’d much rather ring your doorbell.”

  “Noted,” she replied.

  “I’ll see you there at seven.”

  “Yes, you will,” she smiled.

  She ended the call with her butterflies fluttering, and with nothing pressing she changed into her jogging gear and headed to the beach. It was a perfect Southern California day. The sky was clear, the gentle sea breeze was rustling the palm trees, and the ocean was glistening. Running along the path she passed happy dogs being walked, people roller blading, and a few laughing kids trying to launch their kites. The thought of meeting Blake that night was filling her with energy, and she felt as if she could run for miles.

  Though he was rugged, with wide shoulders and almost frighteningly handsome, she had detected a sensitive side. She wondered if he was an actor, and he’d been coy because he didn’t want to reveal his true identity.

  Shoot, I don’t watch much TV. I wonder if he has his own show. No, that’s impossible. A television star wouldn’t have his picture up on the Friendly Spanker website, that would be crazy. Huh. I wonder what his story is. I guess I’ll find out soon enough. I should Google him. Maybe I will when I get home. Of course he may be using a fake name like me.

  As she turned at the end of her loop and started back, more questions began swirling around her head. Was his motorcycle his only means of transport? Was he a Dominant, or just a guy into spanking? He was so good-looking, how could he not have a girlfriend?

  “Stop it. You’ve just met the guy. You may not even like him after dinner,” she mumbled, but even as she uttered the words she knew them to be false. He had measured up to his picture and profile and then some.

  It was a couple of hours later that she stood staring at her closet, convinced she had absolutely nothing to wear.

  “I’m such a stereotype,” she lamented. “Okay, let’s narrow this down. Dress or slacks? Dress. Skirt maybe?”

  As she pulled skirts and dresses from her wardrobe, nixing them, then changing her mind, she was glad she had started the battle early. She narrowed it down to three possibles, tried each of them on, eliminated one, then took a break to have a cup of coffee and catch her breath. When she returned to her bedroom and stared at her two remaining choices, the pale pink print dress, and the black skirt and black and white blouse, she immediately chose the skirt and blouse.

  Relieved the difficult decision had been made, she showered, styled her hair, and with just enough time to apply her makeup, she finished getting ready and headed out the door.

  Traffic was light and the restaurant wasn’t far. She’d not eaten there but she had been curious. From the outside it looked inviting, but driving up Sunset Blvd, filled with anticipation and trying to calm her frazzled nerves, the restaurant took a back seat as more questions began popping into her head.

  Hmm, I wonder if eating here means he doesn’t live too far away. Maybe he chose this place because it’s relatively close to the cafe. What is the matter with me? It doesn’t matter! Lord, I’m so frickin’ nervous.

  Parking on the street presented no problem, and stepping from the car she discovered the air had the slightest nip, promising a dip in the overnight temperature. Pulling her jacket around her shoulders she hurried down the short block, hoping her hair wouldn’t be too messed up from the perpetual ocean breeze whisking around her. Pushing open the door her eyes quickly scanned the room; dimly lit, waiters with bow ties, white tablecloths, booths lining the walls, cozy and warm.

  This is perfect. Just what I imagined.

  “Hi there.”

  She turned to see his smiling face, and a surge of butterflies jumped into a polka. Out of his leather jacket and wearing a grey sports coat and light blue shirt he looked every bit the dream date.

  “Hello, Blake. This place is lovely. I’m so glad you suggested it.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I come here quite a bit.”

  The energy between them was crackling, and not sure what else to say she was relieved when a dapper looking man strode towards them carrying menus.

  “Blake, good to see you. Your table is ready,” he said cordially, then walked them to a corner booth by the window, a choice location. “How are you? Staying safe?” the host continued as they sat down.

  “Yes, absolutely,” Blake replied.

  “Giorgio will be right over to take your drink orders, and here is your wine list.”

  As Blake took the leather-bound folder and the man moved away, Felicity leaned her head forward.

  “Safe? What did he mean, staying safe?”

  “Um, I’ll tell you later,” he replied.

  She sensed his discomfort, but the moment was quickly forgotten as he ordered a bottle of Meritage, and the smooth red wine helped them both relax.

  “You look lovely,” he smiled. “I should have said so the minute I saw you.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she blushed, “and I should have told you as well, that you’re handsome, I mean, you look handsome, very, in that coat. Good grief, now I’m totally embarrassed. Sorry.”

  He laughed, a full, deep, happy laugh, and she hoped it meant her awkwardness had been charming, not clumsy.

  The waiter, Giorgio, arrived at their table, and it was obvious Blake was a regular. Giorgio brought them complimentary appetizers, discreetly discussed the specials and what made one better than another, and he too, asked after Blake’s health.

  “I hope you’re not taking too many chances,” he said as he placed their entrees in front of them. “We like you too much.”

  “No more chances than you, Giorgio,” he replied with a grin.

  “Hah, you are a funny man, Mr. Blake.”

  As he moved away Felicity took a sip of her wine and studied the man across from her.

  Are you a cop? No, then you wouldn’t say you’re in the entertainment business. A bodyguard! I’ll bet that’s it, you’re a bodyguard. That would make sense. You’re so muscular and fit, and you’d have to deal with paparazzi and all kinds of situations.

  Satisfied that she’d solved the mystery, she resumed chatting about some recent news events, and discovered they shared similar points of view, but as dinner continued she couldn’t stop thinking how badly she wanted to feel his hug, to be completely engulfed in his arms. She wanted to dissolve into his chest, and as their
empty plates were cleared she prayed he’d take the plunge and kiss her when he walked her to her car.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’d love some dessert,” he remarked. Are you game?”

  “Sure, pick something, something really decadent,” she answered rolling her eyes, “and that’s the wine talking. One glass and—”

  “And that’s when I get to meet the real Felicity?”

  “The real Felicity,” she repeated quietly. “I think perhaps I should tell you my real name.”

  “Ah, progress,” he grinned. “I’d like that, and for the record I am Blake Berenson.”

  “I’d already figured that out,” she said raising her eyebrows. “It would be a stretch to think a restaurant host and a waiter would join you in a conspiracy to help you use a fake name.”

  “Oh, duh, right,” he said tapping his forehead. “So, whose company have I enjoyed tonight?”

  “Belinda, my name is Belinda Harris,” she smiled.

  “Belinda, that’s a kind name, a warm name,” he nodded. “I like it. So, Belinda, let’s see what kind of decadent things they have on this menu.”

  He ordered a creamy, chocolate, coconut pudding that was downright sexy and insanely rich, and when the plate was empty he reached across the table and asked for her hand.

  “There’s something I have to tell you,” he sighed as he wrapped his fingers around hers.

  “Okay,” she said softly.

  His hand felt strong, his fingers were large, and she could imagine them sliding over her body, but she could also imagine them slapping her backside, and the thought sent a warm shiver down her spine.

  “Should I be worried? You’re not married, or engaged or something?”

  “No, no, of course not,” he said quickly.

  “So tell me.”

  He paused, and though he knew it was selfish he changed his mind.

  I can’t let you leave without feeling you in my arms, and I must kiss you. I must.

  “At your car,” he said.

  Standing up he released her hand, and filled with a curious apprehension she grabbed her jacket and bag and followed him outside. The air had kept its promise, it was cold, and after helping her into her coat he put his arm around her shoulders as they headed down the block.

  “Here we are,” she said as they reached her car, “and I know I’m stating the obvious, but you’ve got me curious.”

  She looked up at him, and as their eyes met she knew immediately what was about to happen. She heard herself lightly gasp, and when he placed his large hands on either side of her face, her heart came to a total and complete stop. Lowering his lips to hers, lingering his mouth, he kissed her gently, making her stomach flip and her toes curl, then slowly pulling back he gazed at her.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I guess so,” she managed, though I can hardly stand up. You’ve make me weak. Whatever it is, I don’t care. Not a bit.

  “I am—”

  “Wait,” she interrupted. “Would you hug me first?”

  “I would love to hug you first,” he sighed.

  Even before his arms were completely around her she was sinking against his chest and into heaven.

  I don’t care what he’s going to tell me, I don’t care. I never want to leave this hug… never… except to feel that kiss again. Ooh, this is absolutely divine.

  “Belinda,” he whispered, “I’m a stuntman.”

  Chapter Four

  He’d planned to tell her when they sat down to dinner, but when he’d walked through the restaurant door and seen her standing there, he’d felt an overwhelming desire to move softly behind her, lift her hair, and kiss the side of her neck. The momentary fantasy had washed over him, leaving him somewhat perplexed. Visions like that simply didn’t happen to him.

  As they’d settled into the table and he’d attempted to summon the courage to spill the beans, Giorgio had made the comment about not taking chances. It had rattled him, and between the two unexpected, unsettling moments, he’d decided to wait until they’d eaten and were sharing coffee and dessert.

  When the time came, staring at her across the table he knew he absolutely, positively had to kiss her. He knew it was selfish, he knew it was wrong, but if he told her what he did for a living and she bailed, he would never know the feel of that kiss, so for the third time he’d postponed the inevitable.

  Now he’d done it, and the moment he’d breathed the words in her ear he’d felt her recoil.

  “You’re a what?” she whispered stepping back and staring up at him.

  “I’m a stuntman,” he repeated.

  “Like a jumping off buildings kind of stuntman?”

  “Yep, like that.”

  “How tall, I mean, how many stories?”

  “Ahh, let’s see,” he sighed wishing she hadn’t asked, “last week I did a five-story. Most stuntmen can go up to five stories. It sounds more dangerous than—”

  “What? You jumped off the top of a five story building?” she interrupted completely aghast.

  “It’s not difficult, and not dangerous, honestly, as long as you fall—”

  “Car crashes?” she frowned interrupting him.

  “Car crashes, fights, I’m a stuntman, that’s what I do.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect…”

  As her voice trailed off he could feel her confusion and a subtle distance rising between them. It hadn’t amazed or attracted her as it did most women, just the opposite. As he’d feared, it had given her pause.

  “I really like you, Belinda. I’d love to see you again.”

  “I really like you too. I just, uh, need to process this.”

  “Sure,” he nodded, “sure, I understand.”

  “Thanks for a lovely time,” she said quietly, a Mona Lisa smile crossing her lips. “I’ll be in touch. Like I said, I just need to, uh, think about this, and Blake, thanks for telling me.”

  Stepping back she opened her car door and climbed inside, and as she started the engine she looked up and gave him a small wave. Watching her pull out into the road and disappear into the night, he let out a heavy sigh.

  “I guess that’s it,” he muttered. “I’ll just have to wait.”

  A swirl of emotions cloaked him as he headed down the block. He paused in front of shop windows and stared absently at the merchandise, not because he was interested, but because it was something to do. He was at odds and somehow the momentary distraction helped. He’d parked his car down a side street, and as he turned the corner he began to feel a sad resignation.

  She’ll either be able to accept it or she won’t. There’s nothing I can do. I can understand her reticence. I’m sure she’s seen some nasty stuff come through the emergency room.

  The street was deserted and quiet, and he’d been staring at the pavement as he walked, but as he raised his eyes and looked ahead he saw something that made him stop. Squinting in the darkness he could make out a tall figure towering over a much shorter one. It only took a second for him to realize something was wrong.

  His heart ticked up, and he could feel the adrenalin begin to pump. Shifting away from the street lamps and hugging the unlit inside edge of the sidewalk, he crept forward, his senses on high alert. As he neared he paused; the tall figure was holding something that was glinting from the light of a nearby streetlamp.

  Focusing on the object, sure it was a weapon, he saw that his hunch was right, it was a knife. A knife was easy, a gun, not so much. Shifting his gaze to the victim he saw it was an older woman, possibly elderly, and he felt his anger rise.

  What kind of bastard preys on an old woman? She’s probably too terrified to scream or to move. Don’t worry you poor thing, you’re going to be just fine. This will be over soon.

  Suddenly the perpetrator raised the knife, causing the woman to stumble backwards, and arms flailing she fell against a parked car. Blake waited, hoping it would trigger the car’s alarm, but to his dismay her fall was not enoug
h to set it off. He continued moving stealthily forward, and it was only a moment or two before he was close enough to hear the mugger’s voice.

  “You don’t do what I say, I’m gonna cut you, I’m gonna cut you good.”

  Reaching down Blake picked up a small rock and threw it over the culprit’s head. It landed with a loud crack, and startled, the man spun around, searching out the source of the noise. Blake was behind the culprit in seconds, landing a swift karate chop to the mugger’s forearm eliciting a woeful scream. Before the knife had even hit the ground Blake had him in a chokehold with his arm twisted up his back.

  “Move an inch and I’ll break your arm. Got it?” Blake growled in the mugger’s ear.

  “Yeah, man, I got it.”

  “Everything’s okay, now ma’am,” Blake said confidently, staring at the woman’s terrified face. “If you’ve got a cell phone call 911. If you don’t there’s one in my pocket. You don’t have to worry, this guy can’t touch you.”

  “Hey man, you’re chokin’ me, lemme go, lemme go,” the criminal gasped as he struggled in vain. “Fuck, my arm.”

  “In the famous words of someone you probably never heard of, keep struggling and make my day,” Blake threatened. “Now be quiet and be still.”

  “Okay, okay,” the man whimpered.

  “Ma’am, did you find your phone?”

  “Yes, yes, h-here,” she stammered holding up her phone. “I’m s-sorry, I c-can’t s-seem t-to s-stop s-shaking.”

  “It’s okay, you’re fine,” he said doing his best to keep his voice calm. “My name’s Blake, what’s yours?”

  The question was designed to take her mind off the drama, and Blake saw her struggling to answer; it was working.

  “D-Doris, Doris Handelman.”

  “Good to meet you, Doris, now press 911.”

  “Oh, y-yes, 911.”

  Stammering into the phone, she was able to describe what was happening to the dispatch operator while Blake moved the mugger to a brick fence. Shoving him over it, Blake pinned both arms behind his back and kicked his legs apart.

  It was a small, affluent community, and sirens blazing, the police arrived in minutes. Not sure what was happening they approached with guns drawn.