No Peeking.... Stephanie Bond
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cheeks warmed. “Were there any calls while I was out?”
The woman handed over a stack of pink slips. “If there’s something I can take the lead on, let me know.”
A proprietary feeling crowded Violet’s chest. “I will,” she murmured, while admitting she wasn’t willing to entrust her clients to her new assistant yet. Maybe after the first of the year, when things slowed down, she could get to know Lillian better and begin delegating more to her desk. “Thanks for bringing in the mail. Do you mind taking Mr. Burns’s coffee cup? And close the door as you leave.”
“No problem,” Lillian said with a smile, backing out.
Violet turned on her laptop, intending to start researching the company for Dominick. While she waited for the machine to boot up, she sifted through her mail, sorting things into neat little piles as she went. Trash, bill, bill, payment, junk, junk, junk—
Her hand stopped when she noticed a return address of Jacksonville, Florida, on a long white envelope. Covington Women’s College, her alma mater? Probably a fund-raiser of some kind, she guessed. She slit open the top and pulled out a cover letter enclosing a pink polka-dotted envelope that tickled a memory chord. Intrigued, she scanned the letter head—Dr. Michelle Alexander.
Violet frowned. Her former college instructor?
Dear Ms. Summerlin,
You were a student in my senior-level class titled Sexual Psyche at Covington Women’s College. You may or may not recall that one of the optional assignments in the class was for each student to record her sexual fantasies and seal them in an envelope, to be mailed to the student in approximately ten years’ time. Enclosed you will find the envelope that you submitted, which was carefully catalogued by a numbered code for the sake of anonymity and has remained sealed. It is my hope that the contents will prove to be emotionally constructive in whatever place and situation you find yourself ten years later. If you have any questions, concerns or feedback, do not hesitate to contact me.
With warm regards,
Dr. Michelle Alexander
Memories pelted her. The Sexual Psyche class had been called Sex for Beginners by all the students. She’d felt very naughty for taking it. She deliberately hadn’t mentioned it to her grandparents and she’d sat on the back row—at first. But as Dr. Alexander lectured on the virtues of becoming a confident lover, Violet had gradually migrated toward the front of the class. She’d been a late bloomer in her teens, shy and self-conscious, her nose buried in books. Thanks to an absent mother and an old-fashioned grandmother, she’d never really had a proper sex talk. The class had been revolutionary for her, stirring up all kinds of…sensations and…urges. She vaguely recalled the assignment to write down her fantasies, remembered struggling to find the right words, but she couldn’t recall what she’d written.
Violet looked back to her laptop, which was running a virus check. Then she pursed her mouth and tentatively picked up the pink envelope. There was only one way to find out.
2
VIOLET REMOVED two sheets of folded stationery from the small envelope, her heart thumping in anticipation at getting a glimpse into her own mind ten years ago. She had been so serious back then. The Sex for Beginners class had jarred her out of her comfort zone, if for only a few weeks.
She glanced at her closed office door, then unfolded the sheets and began to read.
Dear Violet,
I’m having a hard time with this assignment, writing down my sexual fantasies. I’m still getting used to the idea of what’s even supposed to happen during sex. I’ve only done it a couple of times, and both times it was over before I even got my shirt off.
I have to say—if that’s all there is to sex, I’m not impressed. It all seems rather…boring. Doing it in a bed, for instance—it seems like an invitation to go to sleep! Which is exactly what both guys did, by the way. Can’t people have sex in other places besides the bedroom?
Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m not exciting enough to keep a man interested long enough to do it…well. I know that guys think I’m boring and uptight. I think so, too. Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped inside myself. I’m trying to get out, but I can’t. I want to change, I just don’t know how.
Dr. Alexander says she’ll send us these letters in ten years. If you’re reading this, Violet, I hope you’re not boring anymore. I hope you’ve found someone who knows how to make sex exciting. I hope you’ve found a way out of yourself.
A rap on the door made Violet jump. She shoved the letter under a folder on her desk just as Lillian poked her head inside.
“Violet—” The woman stopped. “Are you okay?”
Violet nodded, sitting up straighter and running her hand over her flushed neck. “Yes, I’m…fine. What’s up?”
Lillian grinned and held up a tin. “My weight if the sweets keep rolling in here. Want some fudge?”
“Not right now, thanks,” Violet said, remembering she hadn’t yet had lunch. “Who sent it?”
“Gail’s Gourmet Candy.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s good. I shop there for my clients. You can take it home if you like.”
“Thank you, I will.” Lillian started to leave.
“Lillian?”
“Yes?”
Violet swallowed, then lifted her chin. “Do you think I’m…boring?”
Lillian looked surprised and was quiet for a few seconds. “Violet, I think you’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever met. You can do almost anything.”
“But?”
Lillian moistened her lips. “But…you don’t seem to make room in your life for fun.”
Violet felt her defenses rise. “It’s hard to have fun while running a business.”
“I don’t know. Dominick Burns seems to be having a ball,” Lillian said with a little smile, then closed the door.
Violet chewed on her lip, considering the woman’s words. She did too have fun—all kinds of fun, all the time.
Like the time she…
And sometimes when she…
Violet frowned hard. Fun was overrated. Fun led to…abandon. And recklessness.
And a loss of control.
Dominick Burns’s handsome grin flashed into her head. What do you want for Christmas, Vee?
Now there was a man who’d probably had sex outside the bedroom.
Unbidden desire curled in her stomach and her breasts grew heavy. Dismayed at her reaction, Violet turned her mind to the task at hand—the research he’d asked her to do. Because for all his indiscriminate flirting, Dominick was more interested in her brain than her bod.
For the next couple of hours, she compiled everything she could get her hands on regarding Sunpiper Extreme Sports School—classes, instructors, press releases, videos, capital assets, endorsements, affiliations with sanctioned competitions, lawsuits past and present, as well as background on the two founders. At the school, one could enroll in classes to learn everything from rock climbing to dogsledding, either at the facility or at remote locations all over the world. The company had started small, but had grown steadily and seemed to be poised for either expansion or a new direction. She would keep digging, but on the surface Piedmont looked like a viable acquisition. In fact, Dominick wasn’t the only suitor in the game—less than a month earlier, a company named Cambrian had publicly expressed interest in acquiring the sports school.
She was excited and flattered that Dominick had asked for her help on such an important matter. For all his tomfoolery, the man obviously trusted her, and it