Fyre, Raven - Blind Man's Bluff (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  Blind Man’s Bluff

  A blindfold, a little light bondage, and sensual pleasures beyond anything she’s ever imagined...

  Chloe Rezner believes her naughty nights at Sex On The Beach should be nothing more than a means to an end. An anonymous way to indulge her secret fantasies with a man who’s strictly off-limits--namely because he’s her new boss--while padding her bank account.

  But when the sex is more passionate, more erotic, more everything than she bargained for, her desire for Jackson Sawyer is only magnified. Chloe is trapped in a sensual game of blind man’s bluff, caught in a balancing act between the heaven of her Master’s arms and the hellish reality of wanting more than fantasy.

  And Chloe’s ex? The lying, cheating, greedy SOB wants Chloe back in his life and his bed. Oh, and a little cold, hard, extorted cash wouldn't hurt.

  How high a price must Chloe pay for happiness?

  Note: This book contains anal sex.

  Genre: Contemporary

  Length: 43,071 words

  BLIND MAN’S BLUFF

  Raven Fyre

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  BLIND MAN’S BLUFF

  Copyright © 2010 by Raven Fyre

  E-book ISBN: 1-61034-070-1

  First E-book Publication: December 2010

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Blind Man’s Bluff by Raven Fyre from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Raven Fyre’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Fyre’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  For T, my own prince charming, here’s to sixteen more blissful years.

  BLIND MAN’S BLUFF

  RAVEN FYRE

  Copyright © 2010

  Chapter 1

  “Gram’s gone.”

  With those two words, spoken in a tearful, agonizing whisper, Chloe Rezner’s world effectively began to spiral inward until it imploded. Her heart felt as if it’d shattered into a million teeny tiny pieces—pieces she’d never in a million years find and gather back together. There was such shock and utter sorrow engulfing her.

  Yet Chloe had time for neither.

  Her only thoughts now were for her younger sister’s welfare, of the promise made long ago never to let her down.

  “Rachel, honey, where are you? Are you alone?”

  “N–no,” Rachel replied. “Paul’s here with me now. So many others have been in and out. We’re still at the hospital. She c–coded. Her h–heart—the doctor said Gram’s heart just finally gave out.”

  After Gram had spent so many years neglecting her health, among other things, in order to care for her two granddaughters, Chloe was astounded Gram had made it this long. “Ask Paul to stay with you. I don’t want you alone right now. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

  Chloe heard the sniff of Rachel’s tears and battled back a hot wave of her own. “Yes. Okay.”

  “Hang in there, sweetie. I’ll see you soon.”

  The day Chloe feared most had come. The sky was still blue. Birds still sang from the branches of the nearby oaks. The ground beneath her feet was still solid. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses broke into her thoughts.

  How could the world go on around her as if nothing had happened?

  Was this how Gram had felt when her only daughter, a mother Chloe had never really known, and son-in-law had been taken from her? Snatched away in the span of one evening? In a blink, really, in the grand scheme of things.

  Oh, Gram.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Chloe tried desperately to center her thoughts. Align her priorities. She’d need to speak with her college advisor, leave her contact info just in case something came up. Luckily, the beginning of the fall semester was still nearly three full months away. Time enough for whatever needed to be done—settling Gram’s meager affairs, perhaps persuading Rachel to move now and be closer to her big sister, putting the little house on the market. Surely, these could be accomplished before Chloe needed to be back for the start of her classes.

  Turning from the phone in her boss’s private office, Chloe squared her shoulders for the next hurdle and made her way back through the kitchen, back out to the bar. “Thanks, Harry.”

  “Sure thing, doll. Everything okay?”

  She slowly shook her head. “That was my sister, Rachel. Our Gram…She’s gone. I need a couple weeks, Harry. Maybe more. I really just don’t know right now.”

  Summer was always a busy season. Chloe hated leaving Harry in a lurch. But Rachel came first. Always had, always would.

  “Damn tough break. The girls can cover your hours here and there. And that new kid, Jessie—I’ll see if she wants to work full time ’til you can get back. You do what you need to.”

  “Thanks, Harry.” She smacked a quick kiss on the older man’s cheek. A fair employer, a friendly ear, and a good heart, Harry was a top-notch guy. He kept in shape, was easy on the eyes. Too bad he was old enough to be her father. And that she had sworn off men—all ages, shapes, and forms. “You’re the best.”

  “Take care of yourself, doll. Drive safely now, and you call me if I can do anyt
hing.”

  “You already have.”

  Since it was so late, Chloe dialed her advisor’s office number and left a voice mail within the system. Then she rushed to her apartment and started tossing clothes and cosmetics in suitcases. Her roommate was nowhere to be found—not a huge revelation. Chloe left a note explaining the reason for her swift departure and a check for her half of the rent, which was due Friday.

  Grateful for the fifty from the night’s tips, Chloe topped off the tank of her late-model compact car at a gas station down the street and headed south on I-65. She had little in the way of surplus funds to tide her over for the next couple weeks without her paycheck and those tips from waiting tables at Harry’s Bar and Grill, but thankfully, she wouldn’t need to shell out for a hotel.

  She’d be in Orange Beach by morning and would catch some Zs at home in her old room at Gram’s. Maybe Rachel’s boss would let her pick up a shift or two, maybe even under the table, while she was in town. Rachel was always going on and on about the Sawyers, the brothers who owned the club where she worked. How nice they were. How great they were to work for.

  And how gorgeous both of them were.

  She’d also gotten an earful on their strict personal policy against dating among employees when Rachel had been ridiculously disappointed to find out said policy originated and ended with the two Sawyer brothers themselves. But Chloe couldn’t blame them. Harry wasn’t quite as stringent with his rules, and as a result, she’d witnessed firsthand the stress of working with two lovers on the outs.

  Not fun.

  So, if the Sawyers were such great guys and so great to look at, maybe they’d be willing to cut her a break while she indulged in a little eye candy. God knew looking was all she’d done in so long her thighs would probably creak if she tried to spread them. Her choice, though, she reminded herself. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…Gram had lived by the old adage, and Chloe had come to think of it as her own personal mantra.

  Men were, inherently, pigs. Some covered their muddy tracks better than others, but in the end, they were all the same. Only out for number one and a fresh piece of ass any way they could get it.

  Jaded? Yes, yes, she was.

  But then, Chloe mused, she had every right to be.

  Road-weary and sick at heart, Chloe pulled into the narrow shale drive just as the sun was coming up over the horizon. She parked and grabbed her small overnight case. She could get the other, larger suitcase later. Right now, she was just too tired. Rachel met her at the door, and the two simply fell into one another’s arms, embracing for what felt like hours.

  Tears streaming down her face, Chloe eased back and studied Rachel’s matching expression. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Paul’s getting a shower. He’s got to get to work. I was just making coffee.”

  Chloe followed her in and dropped her case on the couch in the cozy little den. The house was filled with familiar scents of lemon oil and wood and warm vanilla. The furniture was mismatched and covered with faded slipcovers, but everything was spick-and-span, clean and tidily arranged. Gram’s Guideposts magazines were stacked on the coffee table next to a fresh-cut vase of bright pink azaleas and white wisteria from the side yard.

  Rachel poured them each a cup of coffee and sat staring out through the sliding glass doors of the breakfast nook. “I just can’t believe she’s really gone.”

  “Neither can I. What do we need to do first?” Chloe needed to be busy—once she slept off the burn of travel. The chores would keep her focused, leaving little time or space for sorrow in the days to come. “Where is she?”

  “Doc Lyman said the hospital would release her b–body to Radney’s as soon as possible.” The local funeral home. Chloe recognized the name. “Paul gave them all the info last night, and they promised to call when they have her ready.”

  She’d rather not wait for the funeral home to paint Gram’s face or do up her hair. Chloe would rather see her now, just as she was. Just as she’d been. But that wasn’t possible. “I’m going to shower, and then I’m going to fall into bed for a few hours.”

  Chloe carried her cup to the sink. “Wake me if you need me.”

  She passed Paul, Rachel’s man-of-the-month, in the hallway and gave a perfunctory greeting. The tall, lanky young man had a kind smile, straw-colored hair, and keen blue eyes. And, come to think of it, he’d surpassed MOTM status a couple weeks back.

  Huh.

  The poor guy probably had no idea how significant a leap that was for her flighty baby sister.

  He’d also unwittingly earned several points from Chloe for staying the night when her sister most needed his comfort and support.

  Making a mental note to properly thank him once she could form a coherent thought—like after she’d had some shut-eye and several more cups of coffee—Chloe locked the bathroom door, stripped, and stepped under the heavenly, hot spray.

  * * * *

  The days following Chloe’s arrival were largely a blur of appointments, tough decisions, and an endless stream of compassionate visitors. There were the funeral arrangements to be made and dozens of phone calls to be answered in between running to catch the doorbell and trying to reorganize the fridge to store the abundance of food sent over by Gram’s neighbors and her church family.

  Word spread like an epidemic of chicken pox before the blessed discovery of inoculation, and before long, Gram’s carport was lined with five-day coolers that had been loaded down with ice to serve as makeshift refrigeration.

  Chloe appreciated the sentiment. Really, she did. She appreciated that these people cared so much for her Gram. But it was only natural for her to wonder how this support might’ve aided her ailing Gram while she was alive. They’d never been what Chloe would consider dirt-poor, but times had been tough. Gram could stretch a dollar with the finesse of a Wall Street tycoon. Of course, knowing Gram’s stubborn pride, Chloe doubted the woman would’ve accepted such blatant charity, anyway.

  Chloe’s Grandpa had been killed in a freak on-the-job accident nearly twenty-five years back. For years, Gram had existed on his life insurance policy and a settlement from the paper mill. She’d also taken in alterations and the occasional request for handmade dresses, usually children’s clothes. Her steady, delicate fingers had been passed to Chloe through the bloodlines, and she’d spent hours passing on the tedious techniques of shadow embroidery and smocking—intricate, delicate handwork with needle and thread.

  Chloe had dreaded the task, despite her apparent knack for mastering the skills. Ironically, those very skills had most recently served as a source of supplementing her income in order to pay tuition. Another year and Chloe would move into her clinical rotations as an RN, and then she’d gladly leave Harry’s Bar and Grill behind for the not-so-glamorous world of healthcare.

  Her life was a laundry list of shoulda, woulda, coulda.

  She shoulda listened to Gram. Then she woulda stayed single and not married that no-good scum by the name of Clint Rezner, and she coulda gone on to college right out of high school. Instead, she was a twenty-seven-year-old divorced woman, struggling to pay her way and determined as hell to make something more of herself. Her ambitions ran far higher than bussing tables and serving beer for minimum wage, leering smiles, the occasional wandering, beefy hand—which she had no trouble slapping silly—and meager tips.

  But she’d made her bed, and she’d lain in it, literally, right up until the night she’d come home early from working her shift, only to find Clint passed out drunk—with not one, but two naked women.

  In. Their. Bed.

  He was a snake, the lowest, belly-crawling life form ever created in her book, but he was a pretty one, Chloe couldn’t deny. And when he chose to turn on the charm, he could put a cobra to shame. Even when they’d dated, she’d known his eyes had the tendency to wander. Maybe even his dick, though she’d been too naïve, too blinded by young, foolhardy love to see it at the time.

  No, like a fool, she’d overlo
oked his philandering tendencies, telling herself that things would change after she had his ring and his name and a vow for a happily ever after.

  And she? Had been oh, so wrong.

  Since she’d left the screen door latched and the front door open to catch the morning breeze, it took a minute for the knock to filter through her musings.

  “I’ve got it,” Rachel shouted, jolting Chloe back to the present.

  There was the murmur of voices. Then Rachel called out, “Chloe?”

  “Yeah, in the kitchen.” She’d just put on a fresh pot of coffee and pulled a tray of cold cuts from the fridge. “I was just about to…ah…” Her mind stumbled a bit as her gaze settled on the man at Rachel’s side. What was she doing? Lunch meat. Cheese. Ah, yes! “…Make a sandwich.”

  Licking her lips, she quickly decided the man would make a far more appetizing meal than the sliced ham and turkey. God help her, her skin felt flushed and about three sizes too small for her bones. What on earth was wrong with her?

  Stress. Lack of sleep. Yes, those would make a gal wonky, no question.

  “Chloe, this is Jackson Sawyer, one my bosses from the club,” Rachel explained needlessly. “Jackson, my sister, Chloe.”

  Rolling her tongue back in her mouth, Chloe struggled to find her voice. “Ah, yes. So nice to finally meet you.” Chloe snagged a dish towel and wiped her hands before she accepted the one Jackson extended. “You and your brother have been a godsend to Rachel.”