Amanda's Dominant Daddy Read online

  “I wonder if it’s an animal,” she mumbled as she sipped her coffee. “A raccoon maybe, or rats. Yuck. I don’t like the idea of rats, but if it was an animal, why isn’t anything disturbed? Shoot. Maybe I have a ghost.”

  Then a thought floated into her head. The mysterious nocturnal noises were the perfect excuse to contact Braxton. She didn’t want to answer his all-important question, at least not yet, but as much as she hated to admit it, she most definitely wanted to see him again. Moving back to the table, she opened her laptop, read his email address from his card, and began to type.

  Hi Braxton:

  Thank you again for all your help last night. I hope I’m not asking too much, but I have a situation in my house, a rather disturbing situation. When you get a minute would you email me and let me know when you might be able to swing by? I’d really like to get your take on it, and hear any suggestions you might have. I’ll reciprocate with a jar of spaghetti sauce. Would that be sufficient compensation for your time?

  Thank you,

  Amanda

  Reading it through, she thought it was intriguing enough to capture his attention, and she let out a satisfied sigh after hitting the send button, but when her landline rang she jumped. She hadn’t realized how jittery she was. Taking a breath, she moved across to answer the wall-mounted phone and discovered it was the tow truck at her gate. Buzzing him in, she was about to head to the garage when her laptop told her she had a new email. She hurried back to the table to check, and was delighted to see it was from Braxton.

  Hi Amanda:

  I’m very close by. I was at a breakfast meeting at the Four Seasons on Doheny. I don’t know if you’re home, but I could come by now if you want, and yes, the sauce would be sufficient, as long as it’s served on pasta cooked by you.

  Braxton

  She felt a fluttering in her stomach. It had been a long time since a man had made her butterflies come to life, and she immediately sent back her response.

  I believe we have a deal. Thank you! Yes, I’m here. The tow truck has just arrived. Off to meet him at the garage right now. See you soon, and thank you.

  Though she couldn’t deny how happy she was at the thought of seeing him, heading down the hallway to the garage she was filled with conflict. For months she’d been suppressing her attraction to him, for months she’d avoided his subtle glances and inviting smiles, and when she’d finally run into him at the juice bar at the gym, she had hoped he’d be a jerk so she could get him out of her head, but he was charm and warmth personified. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to meet him for coffee, and she’d immediately wanted to suck her words of acceptance back into her mouth… but not really. She did want to see him outside the gym. He oozed sexuality, and she’d heard the rumors. He was a bondage and discipline guy. Just the idea of him tying her up and ravaging her made her knees weak. And spanking? In her entire life no one had ever slapped her butt, not even playfully or during sex, and yet the idea of it was totally, frightening, embarrassingly tantalizing.

  Pushing the button to roll up the garage door, she found the tow truck waiting, and as she stepped forward she spotted a silver Mercedes sedan parked behind him. The driver introduced himself as Joe and was extremely polite, but the staff at the dealership always were. The high-end car market was competitive, and Matthews Mercedes made every effort to make sure their clients were happy.

  “Until you get things sorted out with your insurance company, we’re happy to provide you with a loaner,” Joe said, handing her the keys. “Sam Matthews wanted me to tell you how sorry he is that this happened.”

  Sam Matthews was the dapper owner of the dealership, and she’d been doing business with him for many years.

  “That’s very generous, thank you,” she said as she took the clipboard and signed the paperwork. “Do you think the damage is repairable? Will I have to get a new car?”

  “I’m not a body shop guy, but it looks fairly extensive,” the driver remarked. “I’m sure they’ll get back to you fairly quickly with some idea, but the decision will be made by the insurance adjuster.”

  “Yes, I know,” she sighed, handing him back the clipboard.

  “I’m going to back the truck up now,” he smiled. “This won’t take me very long.”

  “Thank you. The key is in it, and I’ve cleared out the glovebox. If you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll leave you to it.”

  “I’m good. Have a nice day, Miss Anderson.”

  She hadn’t expected Braxton would be in the neighborhood and able to see her so quickly, and she wanted to change clothes before he arrived, so moving quickly back inside, she trotted up the stairs to her bedroom. She was wearing a sweat suit, and as she slipped into a pink and black checked skirt, black boots, and a pink sweater, she gazed at her reflection in her antique Victorian oval mirror.

  “Yes, that’s better,” she mumbled.

  Hurrying into her bathroom, she brushed her hair and applied some lip gloss, but as she stared at her reflection she wasn’t sure if she liked the eyeliner she’d applied earlier. It was what she always wore, and had been wearing for years, but then her landline rang and she moved quickly to her bedside table to answer it.

  “I’m at the gate.”

  Hearing Braxton’s voice sent her pulse ticking up, and after pressing the number nine on the phone’s keypad, she walked across to her window and watched his BMW roll around the driveway. Glancing toward the front of the garage, she saw the tow truck had left and the silver Mercedes was gleaming in the morning sun. She felt a pang of guilt. She should be in the loaner car driving to her office, but she decided staying home and getting Braxton’s take on the mysterious noises during the night was justifiable. It was important. She couldn’t negotiate contracts and make decisions with nighttime ghouls haunting her thoughts. Taking a breath, she headed from her room and down the stairs, and she had just reached the foyer when the doorbell rang. She felt ridiculously nervous, and it didn’t help that his question was suddenly in the forefront of her mind.

  When was the last time you felt alive, Amanda, really, truly alive? Spine-tinglingly alive.

  As she moved forward she realized she had never felt spine-tinglingly alive. Was there such a thing?

  “Thanks so much for stopping by,” she said gratefully as she opened the door.

  “I’m glad I was around,” he replied. “You look great. Pink really suits you.”

  “Oh, uh, thanks. Come on in. Would you like some coffee?”

  “I think I’m coffee’d out,” he replied, stepping inside the marble-tiled foyer. “Your house is something. It’s so…”

  “Big,” she said, closing the door behind him “It’s too big for me. I’ve been thinking about downsizing for ages. It’s finding the time to make it happen.”

  “Really? But it’s so beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I do love it; I’d just like a smaller version of it.”

  “I haven’t seen it all, of course, but I can understand that,” he nodded, unexpectedly wondering what she was doing rattling around in so many rooms by herself. Did she and the house have history? A romantic history? “So, what is it you need?” he asked, turning off his curiosity and focusing back on why he was there. “You said you have a situation?”

  “Yes, I do. This is going to sound a bit crazy, but I promise I’m not imagining things.”

  “Go on.”

  “I have a guest wing just down the hall from my bedroom, and for the last few weeks I’ve been hearing noises. Not every night, but frequently. Anyway, last night I happened to be awake when I heard them, and I mean, I heard them clearly, so now I know I haven’t been dreaming, but the rooms look untouched. I’m too scared to check things out at night when I hear them. It’s become very disturbing.”

  “I’m sure,” he said, his voice full of empathy, “and it’s not the house settling?”

  “No, no, I’m sure it’s not. It sounds like someone moving around, opening and closing drawers, noises l
ike that. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but last night I was very frightened. I locked my bedroom door, but I couldn’t sleep after that. I was going to call the police, but I kept thinking they’d arrive, find nothing, and I’d look like an idiot.”

  “Hey, the police are here to protect and serve. It’s their job,” he said firmly. “That’s why you pay taxes. You should never worry about calling the police if you think you’re in jeopardy.”

  “I guess,” she sighed.

  “I’m very complimented that you felt you could call on me. Thank you.”

  His eyes were filled with warm sincerity, and she felt herself blush. He was so nice, yet he had an authoritative air that was making her stomach do the flippy thing again.

  “Where do you think the noises are coming from?”

  “Let me show you,” she said quickly, hoping she hadn’t been staring at him too blatantly.

  “It might be an animal,” he remarked as they started up the stairs.

  “That’s crossed my mind a few times, but I don’t see any evidence of one, and to be honest I’m too afraid to peek under the bed. I mean, what if it is some wild creature and it jumps out at me?”

  “I think you’re smart to be cautious. To quote Sherlock Holmes, fear is wisdom in the face of danger. If it’s a raccoon or feral cat, they can be aggressive.”

  They’d reached the landing, and she headed down the hallway in the opposite direction of her bedroom. It dog-legged to the right, and opening a set of double doors, she gestured him ahead of her.

  “This is it. There’s a sitting room at the end of the hall, but each of the three bedrooms is in a row, as you can see.”

  “Let’s take a look,” he said confidently.

  “I only ever look inside. I never actually walk in. I’m too chicken.”

  “You ready?” he asked, stopping at the first door.

  “Definitely, now that you’re here,” she smiled.

  Opening it slowly, he poked his head in and scanned the room. At first glance it appeared untouched, but as he scrutinized the bed he noticed the pillow was slightly askew.

  “Huh,” he muttered, moving inside.

  “What is it?”

  “Probably nothing, but… does your housekeeper come up here?”

  “A couple of times a month to dust, why?”

  “Maybe she takes a quick nap,” he chuckled.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “The pillow. It’s not straight, and the coverlet, it’s a bit uneven on the bed.”

  “Really?” she said, moving to stand beside him. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, you’re right. I didn’t notice that when I looked in this morning.”

  “It’s not glaring, and you probably just took a quick peek, right?”

  “Yes, a nervous quick peek,” she nodded.

  “Do you keep any clothes or belongings in here?”

  “No, nothing. The closets and dressers are empty for any guests who might stay over, but that doesn’t happen very often.”

  Stepping across to the dresser, Braxton opened the top drawer.

  “You won’t find anything,” she said as he continued pulling out each of them. “I don’t think feral cats or possums can open and close drawers.”

  “Precisely,” Braxton replied, and bending down, he added, “so if that is actually the noise you’re hearing, it must be a two-legged animal, and what do we have here?”

  Straightening up, he lifted his hand in the air, and dangling from his fingers was a man’s dirty sock with holes in the toes.

  “What the hell?” she whispered.

  “This is recent. It smells.”

  “No kidding! I can smell it from here,” she declared. “Was it in the bottom drawer?”

  “It was. Careless. He must have been in a hurry.”

  “Oh, my gosh,” she breathed. “I’m starting to freak out.”

  “Try not to worry,” he said reassuringly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Laying it on top of the comforter, he headed into the bathroom, and after opening the glass shower door, he stared down at the tiled floor.

  “Amanda, the shower isn’t wet, but the soap, look, it’s been used recently.”

  “It totally has,” she exclaimed, her eyes growing wide. “That soap should be covered in cellophane. All the bars of soap in the bathrooms up here are wrapped.”

  “It appears you have an uninvited male guest in your house.”

  “I don’t believe it! Holy crap!”

  “Let’s check the other two rooms.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I’m shaking. I don’t understand how this could be happening.”

  “Hmm,” he frowned. “It’s strange, that’s for sure.”

  They carefully inspected the other bedrooms but found no further evidence, and back in the hallway, Amanda leaned against the wall and dropped her head in her hands.

  “I have a lone male guest,” she said dismally. “I am so scared right now. What the hell am I going to do?”

  “Come on, let’s go downstairs and have that coffee. I’ll tell you my theory and then we should call in the police, but I should warn you, I don’t think there’s enough here for them to actually do anything. They’ll probably take the report, and promise to cruise by your house, but if nothing’s been stolen and there’s no evidence of a break-in, then they’ll probably—”

  “You’re kidding?” she exclaimed, jolting her head up and staring at him.

  “I might be wrong, but I don’t think so. Regardless, call them in and see what they have to say.”

  “But if they don’t offer any practical solutions, what should I do then?”

  “Would you like to hear my suggestion now?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I think I should stay here overnight in your bedroom. You could book into a hotel if you want, or—”

  “No, I’m staying here,” she said vehemently. “I refuse to allow someone to chase me out of my home.”

  “Do you have a couch in your room?”

  “I do.”

  “Then I’ll sleep there. When the noises start, I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you already know?”

  “I think I do.”

  “Now I definitely want to go downstairs and have that coffee,” she declared, “and you can tell me exactly what you think this is all about.”

  Chapter Five

  Amanda wasn’t happy. Braxton had been right. The Beverly Hills Police sent over a detective, but after seeing the lone dirty sock and no signs of forced entry, he’d shrugged his shoulders and told her all he could do was make sure a patrol car kept an eye on her house.

  “Call if anything more substantial happens and I’ll come back out,” he said as they made their way back down the stairs.

  “More substantial?” she railed. “Like finding me murdered in my bed?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Braxton said patiently.

  “Oh, really? And you know that how, exactly?”

  “Ma’am,” the detective began, “if you’re that concerned—”

  “Of course I’m that concerned,” she yelled, interrupting him. “How can I not be? You have to do something.”

  “I was going to suggest,” the detective continued, trying to remain calm, “that you hire a P.I. to monitor the house around the clock. We don’t have the manpower to do something like that.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t have the manpower? I’m in danger!” she exclaimed, throwing up her arms. “Don’t you get that?”

  They’d reached the foyer, and Braxton was astonished at Amanda’s unexpected temperamental display of righteous indignation. She had suddenly turned into a demanding shrew. Was this why she was alone? Because she could abruptly transform into a spoiled brat and throw a temper tantrum?

  “Detective, may we have a word outside?” he asked, moving toward the door.

  As the detective nodded and moved to join him, Braxton could
see the relief in his face. Amanda’s outburst had been borderline shocking and difficult to witness.

  “Thank God,” Amanda exclaimed as Braxton turned around to close the door behind him. “Maybe you can talk some sense into that man. He obviously doesn’t understand the seriousness of this situation. I want some action!”

  “Amanda, I can assure you, you’ll get some action,” Braxton said soberly. “I’ll be right back.”

  Hurrying to the window of her elegant sitting room, she studied the two men talking. It was a short conversation, then Braxton shook the officer’s hand, the detective climbed into his car, and Braxton watched him drive off before heading back to the house.

  “I’m here in the living room,” she called as she heard him enter the foyer.

  “Do you do that often?” he asked, walking in.

  “Do what?”

  “You’re a very smart woman, Amanda,” he said, glaring at her. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “What are they going to do?” she demanded, ignoring his question. “Tell me what he said.”

  “Nope, trying to change the subject won’t work with me,” he frowned, moving toward her. “I’d suggest you take a deep breath and calm down.”

  “How am I supposed to calm down?” she retorted, unnerved by his steadiness. She’d had the detective quaking in his boots, but Braxton seemed completely unaffected. “I have some strange guy camped out down the hall from my bedroom, and the fucking police don’t give a shit.”

  “Of course they do,” he said evenly, “and I told you what you could expect from them, so I’m not sure why it came as a surprise to you, but back to my question, and this time I want an answer. Do you do that often?”

  “I was simply voicing my frustration and fear!” she declared. “I have a right to do that in my own house.”