Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

“Fontaine Industries owns various businesses, properties, and all that, so I know a lot of people, yes. And those who support the dog and cat programs come every year.” He grinned and bent down to pat Butler. “This is Butler's fourth year.”

“Alex, good to see you.” A middle-aged brunette in a scarlet gown strolled over. “The auction is a hit. How did you finagle those cruise-ship packages?”

“I have a sweet-talking manager who I sicced on the cruise lines.” Alex smiled at Mac. “Susan, this is my friend MacKensie Taylor. She's a vet from the Midwest and plans to relocate here to Seattle. Mac, this is Susan Weston. She runs the Weston Animal Hospital.”

They talked briefly about Mac's first view of the Sound and mountains, then the work Susan did for the spay-neuter programs. By the time Susan excused herself, Mac had decided to add Susan's hospital to her list of places to apply.

As they drifted toward the huge room set up for the silent auction, Mac met ten more veterinarians, most of whom owned their own clinics. “Don't any middle-class people attend this event?” she asked finally when she and Alex were alone.

“Not too many,” he said absently, nodding at a couple. “It's four hundred dollars a plate.”

She stopped dead, and he'd taken two steps past her before realizing she was gone. With a huffed laugh, he returned. Running his hands up and down her bare arms, he said, “Relax, pet. Keeping the price high draws the big spenders so we can soak them good in the auction room. That is the point, after all.”

“Yes, but—”

“Just treat everyone like Butler does,” he advised. “His only concern is if a person smells good and knows how to pet a dog properly.”

Hearing his name, Butler looked up and wagged his tail.

Mac pulled in a breath. “Okay. I…sorry. I just hadn't realized—thought about…” She shrugged helplessly. God, she was so far out of her class… Her chest ached.

Alex's hands tightened on her arms. “No. I don't want to see that look in your eyes.” He frowned at her. “People are people. A lot of the ones here inherited money. They didn't do anything productive to earn it. Others gave up everything to get rich. Does having money and no character make a person admirable?”

But if they knew what she'd done? But they don't, stupid. Get over it . She looked great, and the most gorgeous man in the place escorted her. Her lips curved. “All right. Sorry. Momentary panic attack,” she said lightly.

Alex kissed her cheek gently. “Now that's character,” he said, then continued leading her into the auction room.

“MacKensie!”

Mac froze, then grinned as a tiny streak of electric blue sped across the room. “Hope, you're here.”

“Look at you! You look awesome.” Hope clapped her hands, then wrinkled her nose at Alex. “Phht, you don't deserve her, you know.”

Mac's mouth dropped open. When Peter appeared and drew Alex's attention, she edged closer to Hope and whispered, “Won't you get in trouble talking to him that way?”

Hope giggled. “No. The rules are for play or… Well, each couple is different. Some are truly Master and slave all the time, but those in our little group aren't.” She shook her head. “Of course, if I give him too much grief, he'll make me suffer for it the next time we all get together.”

When Peter and Hope headed back to their station at an auction table, an older woman broke away from a small group. Wearing a silvery gown that accented her blue eyes and silver hair, she seemed the epitome of dignity. Taking Alex's hand, she kissed his cheek lightly and said, “I'm giving a dinner party next Friday, and I'd like you to attend.”

Mac frowned at how familiar her voice sounded. Maybe from one of the vet's offices or…

“Why don't you bring Cynthia with you?” the woman asked.

Do not glare; glaring is not polite . Mac smoothed her expression out with an effort. But maybe this was a good time to go hang out with Peter and Hope for a bit. She started to edge away.

Alex's hand wrapped around her arm, holding her in place. “Cynthia moved to Rome, Mother.”

Rome? Mother? Oh frak . She didn't think she moved, but the fingers around her arm tightened.

“Mother, I'd like you to meet my friend MacKensie Taylor, who is moving here from the Midwest. MacKensie, this is my mother, Victoria Fontaine.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mac said, forcing sincerity into her voice.

“Welcome to Seattle, Miss Taylor,” Victoria said with not a speck of warmth. “If you'll excuse me, I want to check our seating arrangements.” She tilted her head at her son, patted Butler, nodded to Mac, and swept away.

How long did you have to be rich before you learned to walk like a queen? Mac wondered, shoving aside the pain from being so obviously detested. She glanced at Alex. “I didn't realize you have family here.” Actually, since she wasn't used to having any, she hadn't even thought about it.

“Please forgive my mother,” Alex said softly. “My father was unfaithful and had a liking for blondes, so Mother acts as if every pretty blonde is a hooker.”

A hooker . Mac felt the blood slide right out of her face, and her hands clenched. “Nothing to forgive,” she said hastily. “But I just spotted the ladies' room. If you and Butler will excuse me, please?” Before he could grab her and quiz her, she escaped. She knew her hasty retreat not only didn't look like a queen's but displayed no dignity whatsoever.

Decorated in floral wallpaper with blue tiling the color of Alex's eyes, the elegant powder room held several brocade-covered chairs. Her legs none too steady, Mac sank into one gratefully. Alex's mother thought blondes were hookers. If she only knew… Mac gave a short laugh and buried her face in her hands.

After a minute, her brain clicked back on. Overreacting here.

Really now, although Alex made her feel wonderful and she really liked him, he wasn't…wasn't… She stared at her hands, watching the sparkles on her fingernails. Well, yes, he was . She'd fallen for him in a big way. But they had a deal, and he'd made it very, very clear right from the beginning that he didn't want a real girlfriend. Temporary, Mac, try to remember that.

So fine. On a more positive note, that meant whatever his mother thought of MacKensie wasn't important at all. Besides, she lived in Seattle now, not Oak Hollow; no one knew her past…mistakes.

Mac raised her chin and straightened her spine. Alex had brought her here to help her find a job. She'd better get with the program.

An hour later, the most tedious part of the evening—speeches and acknowledgments and awards—had concluded, the program deliberately kept short and sweet.

Since Alex found sit-down meals at an event this size far from palatable, two years ago he'd prevailed and hors d'oeuvres were served buffet-style instead. Each of the many long tables along the wall featured the artistry of a different local chef, and after serving themselves, guests could sit and eat or wander around.

Alex had seen to the feeding of his little sub, although she had no appetite, especially when she realized they had to sit in the front of the room. A glass of wine helped her color. After the speeches were done, he took her table-hopping, choosing vet contacts she'd find useful and people he thought she'd enjoy. His friends tended to be good, down-to-earth people. He'd enjoyed watching as she charmed the pets at each table and then their owners. God knew she charmed the hell out of him.

With a sense of anticipation, he had introduced her to his uncle. An excellent judge of character, Uncle Andrew had disliked Cynthia within minutes of meeting her. He obviously fell for MacKensie just as quickly and was now trying to talk her into joining the family for a day sail through the San Juan Islands.