Binding Choice: A Romantic Thriller Read online

  .

  .

  Binding Choice

  .

  A Romantic Thriller

  .

  .

  .

  by Jessica Dale

  .

  .

  Dark Ardor Publications

  Published by Dark Ardor Publications

  a subsidiary of misterio press LLC

  .

  Cover design by Melinda VanLone

  Book Cover Corner

  .

  Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Dale

  .

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used, transmitted, stored, distributed or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the author’s written permission, except very short excerpts for reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the publisher’s/authors’ express permission is illegal and punishable by law.

  .

  Binding Choice is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events, and most places are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or the events in their lives is entirely coincidental. Some real places are used fictitiously.

  .

  The publisher has no control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites and their content.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  CHAPTER ONE

  Erica

  That fateful night.

  For the rest of my life that’s how I would think of February 14, 2015.

  I hadn’t even wanted to go to the party. I’d sworn off men since my last relationship debacle.

  Brandi, the receptionist where I work, had invited me, pressured me a little. “Come on. It’s Valentine’s Day. It’ll be fun.”

  I was feeling a little desperate for some fun, and some solid female companionship. I’d only been in town for a few weeks, and I was already wondering if the move to Baltimore had been a bad idea. I needed a new start, I’d told myself. But my closest friend—okay, my only true friend now that my mother was gone—was almost five hours away in southwestern Virginia.

  I really wasn’t counting Brandi as a friend. Maybe our friendly acquaintance would’ve grown into something closer if she hadn’t abandoned me at the party, disappearing into the crowd when we were barely inside the door.

  The lighting was dim, the large living room dotted with heart-shaped helium balloons, red streamers dripping from window frames and light fixtures.

  I didn’t recognize anyone and experienced a rare surge of shyness. I was considering leaving, taking a cab home.

  Then he approached me, tall and broad-shouldered, blue eyes gleaming, blond hair flopping down over his forehead, a tentative smile on his lips.

  A Greek god.

  I felt my chin drop and quickly clamped it shut again.

  “Hi, I’m Jules,” he yelled over the throbbing music.

  I tugged self-consciously on the fabric stretched across my hips, making sure my dress hadn’t ridden up. Then I held out a hand. “Erica.”

  So much for laying off men, a snide voice said in my head. It sounded an awful lot like my friend Amanda.

  “Nice dress,” Jules said—or rather yelled—as he shook my hand.

  I smiled. It was my favorite–red, snug, with a silver thread woven into the fabric. It brought out the auburn highlights in my dark hair, left down tonight, curling softly over my shoulders. The matching stilettos pinched my toes, but the pain was worth it. My calves looked their sexiest in high heels.

  I licked my lips. “I came with a friend,” I shouted over the music.

  His face fell.

  “A female friend, but I’ve lost track of her already. Do you know who’s hosting the party?” Maybe it’s old-fashioned but my mother had taught me to always greet the host or hostess when arriving at a party.

  “Sure, I’ll introduce you.” He took me lightly by the elbow and steered me through the crowd. He stopped by a small bar. “Drink first?”

  I nodded. “White wine.”

  He stepped behind the bar, which was apparently self serve, and searched in a big stainless steel tub of ice and bottles. Coming up with a pale green wine bottle, he grinned. “Eureka.”

  He found a glass and poured.

  “You’re not drinking?”

  He shook his head. “Designated driver.”

  I managed a smile. Did that mean he’d come with a date?

  Wineglass in hand, I followed him into the next room, a less formal living space—a study maybe—furnished with low, comfortable-looking easy chairs and lined with bookcases. And currently crowded with chatting and laughing party guests, most of them holding drinks in their hands.

  Jules approached a group of two men and three women. He waved a hand toward one of the men, a rather average guy—medium height, medium build, brown hair at medium length. “This is our host, Paul.”

  He shifted toward the woman next to Paul. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “That’s my friend,” I said.

  Brandi had poured her voluptuous body into a purple dress a size too small. She tilted her head and flashed Jules a coy smile.

  He gave me a quizzical look. He hadn’t heard me apparently, over the pounding beat of the music.

  A small glow blossomed in my chest. Brandi’s attempt to flirt with him had gone unnoticed. He seemed to be focused entirely on me.

  “That’s Brandi, the friend I came with,” I yelled just as the music abruptly stopped. The last three words, I came with, bounced around the room, pulling everyone’s attention toward me.

  I felt my cheeks heat until I’m sure they matched my dress.

  The small group in front of us smiled. Brandi snickered.

  I scowled at her. Close friendship was definitely not in the cards for us.

  She must have misinterpreted my glare. “Sorry,” she giggled, “I thought you were right behind me.”

  I shrugged and faked a smile. No point in giving her a hard time. The glassy look in her eyes said she was already tipsy, which meant she’d probably been drinking before she picked me up at my place.

  It would be a cab tonight after all.

  But not just yet. “No problem,” I said. “I’ve already made a new friend.” I slipped my left hand around Jules’s upper arm and encountered solid muscle under his pale blue shirt sleeve.

  He squeezed my fingers gently against his side for a brief moment.

  Hmm, either he wasn’t with a date tonight, or he was such a player he didn’t care if a date saw him with another woman.

  Player is okay, I reminded myself. I wasn’t looking for romance, just some fun.

&nbs
p; Jules was smiling down at me, he gestured toward the rest of the group. “Bets, Pru and Drew.”

  The woman named Pru let out a clipped chuckle. “You’re a poet.” She was a tall blonde, rather Viking-ish, probably around thirty, with a stunningly beautiful face.

  A slight clenching of my stomach. I resisted the urge to pull out my compact and check my makeup.

  “Bets?” I said to the woman nearest me, a petite redhead.

  She offered a hand, which I shook. “Short for Betty, which is short for Elizabeth. Jules loves to make up his own nicknames for everyone.”

  “And Pru is for Prudence.” The stunning woman also offered a hand and shook mine warmly. “Honestly, I like Pru better.”

  With the music stopped, we could now talk without screaming at each other. “Good to meet you both.”

  The other man edged forward. Pru shot him an enigmatic look and stepped aside.

  He took my right hand before I had a chance to extend it, brought it to his lips and kissed my fingertips. A small jolt of electricity sizzled up my arm. I gently extracted my fingers from his grip.

  He was the dark, brooding type—black hair, brown eyes as hard as marbles in a lean, tanned face. Not quite as tall as Jules and thinner—wiry my mother would’ve called him.

  “Drew is my real name,” he said in a deep, throaty voice.

  Sexy, I thought, and a slight shiver ran down my spine despite the heat of the packed room.

  Jules squeezed my fingers against his side again, a beat longer this time.

  Paul, our host, punched Drew in the shoulder. “No it’s not.” He turned to me. “It’s short for Andrew.”

  Drew grinned, white teeth flashing. He mimicked clicking his heels together. “Andrew Thompson, at your service, beautiful lady.” The last two words were slurred slightly.

  I gave him an obligatory chuckle, congratulating myself internally that I was more attracted to Jules.

  Are you really now? Amanda’s voice in my head again, sounding skeptical.

  Well, I was attracted to Jules at least as much as I was to this other man who gave off darker vibes.

  Both my mother’s and Amanda’s faces sprang to life in my mind’s eye. They wore matching expressions—raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

  That’s progress, I argued internally.

  And my head had already decided who I was planning to get to know better. Not that I was going to date Jules, mind you, but a friendly romp wouldn’t do any harm. A warm tingle ran down my core, pooling between my legs. It had been a long time since I’d had any kind of “romp” with a man, even the rather mechanical ones with my ex toward the end of our relationship.

  The music started up again, a slow beat this time.

  Jules patted the hand that was wrapped around his bicep. “May I have this dance?”

  I thought you’d never ask. Out loud I said, “Sure.” I downed the rest of my wine and set the empty glass on an end table.

  <<>>

  Drew

  She would do nicely. Very nicely indeed.

  The pleasure of the moment was slightly tarnished by thoughts of the deal I’d supposedly made to get her.

  I truly hated being obligated to someone. Sharing was a concept I never had cared for, not since kindergarten. I might dispense favors when it served my purposes, but partnership was not my thing.

  And that wasn’t how it was supposed to work. He wasn’t supposed to have contact once the game was afoot.

  But did I have to actually tell him when I’d achieved success? How would he ever know? A grin spread across my face.

  “Hey,” Paul thumped me on the shoulder. “You want another drink?”

  I kept the grin plastered on, suppressing the urge to thump him back, someplace other than his shoulder. “Sure, man. Thanks.”

  I watched the brunette’s swishing butt as Jules led her into the living room. Kind of a shame that he seemed to be interested.

  But not a major obstacle.

  <<>>

  Erica

  Back in the larger room, we swayed across the hardwood surface of an impromptu dance floor, a few other couples scattered around us. Jules held me with a firm arm around my back, but not too close as befitted our just-met status. Warmth spread slowly through my body.

  I’d forgotten how good it felt to be held by a man.

  At five-eight, I’m certainly not short, but he was almost an entire head taller. He rested his chin gently against my hair, stirring it with his warm breath. My follicles tingled.

  The song ended too soon. He stepped back and leaned down a little. I thought he might be headed for my lips, but he kissed me gently on the forehead.

  More warmth and tingling where his lips had caressed my skin. The sensations slowly moved down to heat my cheeks, in a pleasant way this time.

  Again, I felt a bit shy. Had the move and feeling so isolated undermined my confidence?

  I gave Jules a small smile.

  I thought you’d sworn off men, my inner voice chided again.

  A girl can have some fun, I shot back.

  Humph.

  The next song was much faster, and best I could tell, about ten decibels louder.

  “Want to get some fresh air?” Jules yelled near my ear.

  I nodded.

  He steered me across the room again.

  Drew stepped out of a group of people as we neared the door. “Leaving so soon?” He stared at me, ignoring Jules.

  “No, but...” I waved my fingertips in front of my face. “It’s a little warm in here.”

  “Allow me.” Drew crooked an arm in front of me.

  Jules tightened his grip on my elbow. “The lady’s with me at the moment.” His tone was neutral, but his body and face were anything but—cheeks flushed, jaw tight, arms and torso tense.

  “Uh, maybe another time,” I said.

  Drew pivoted and stood in front of Jules, in his space. Jules towered over him, a good three inches taller.

  Drew’s eyes flashed, but a small smile curved his lips.

  “You’re drunk,” Jules said.

  A beat of silence. I held my breath.

  Drew’s face relaxed. “Which is why I have you, bro, to drive me home.” He slapped Jules’s arm, then stepped aside, making an after-you gesture with a slight bow.

  Jules moved me past him.

  Drew raised a hand and gently brushed my hair off one shoulder. “Until we meet again,” he said in my ear, too low for Jules to hear.

  I shivered, even as a warmth blossomed deep in my abdomen and spread outward.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Drew

  I knew in that moment she would be mine.

  And my selfless twinge of regret regarding Jules... well, I was over it. The conquest would be that much sweeter because I would take her away from him.

  I’d wanted to slug him when he’d sneered, “You’re drunk.”

  But right is right. I was too drunk to beat him in a fight. And I made it a practice to never start a fight that I couldn’t win.

  No, I would give him time to woo her, to win her even. And then I would make my move.

  <<>>

  Jules

  When a player falls, he falls hard.

  Not that I could really claim the title of player. I wasn’t particularly good at playing the field, preferring to focus on one woman at a time. But then I wasn’t real good at commitment either.

  I told myself that I bored easily, but I knew deep down I was afraid. Afraid of being fooled, of getting hurt.

  The women always assumed that fear without my having to admit to it. But they also assumed I’d been hurt by a lover in the past.

  Nothing could be further from the truth. Indeed, the truth was far worse.

  My sister was the one who had been hurt—very, very badly.

  Of course, I wasn’t vulnerable to being hurt in the same way as women were. But still, my trust in the universe, in everyone who occupied it, had been shaken by what had happened to her.


  Last night, I’d ended up taking Erica home, abandoning Drew to his own resources.

  Someone would give him a ride, or he could take a cab. I didn’t care. I was tired of his bullshit. Being fraternity brothers in college only bought you so much leeway.

  Erica had directed me to a complex of small townhouses.

  “Nice community,” I said as I turned into the entrance, even though I’d never cared much for the planned city of Columbia. It was lovely, but it had no history, no back story to give it charm like the other towns around Baltimore and Washington. In the 1960s, James Rouse, of shopping mall fame, had a dream, so he bought a bunch of farmland and built a small city.

  I admired Rouse for his dream, to create a fully integrated community, where racial, religious and class barriers were no more. But to me, Columbia was more a sprawling, middle-class bedroom community, plunked down in the middle of rural Howard County.

  We’d strolled up the walk to Erica’s house, an end unit with a faux fieldstone front. At her door, she stopped and looked up at me expectantly. Her cream-colored coat wasn’t much longer than her skirt, leaving a lot of leg exposed.

  It was frigid, and I wondered how she could stand to be so scantily clad on such a cold night.

  She leaned slightly forward and the coat parted some, showing me a good bit of cleavage.

  I sucked in air. With effort, I resisted the urge to haul her against me. Instead, I kissed her on the forehead.

  She laughed. “Why do I suddenly feel like your sister?”

  The innocent words squeezed my heart. I faked a smile.

  She wrapped a hand behind my neck and pulled my head down. “You can do better than that,” she whispered.

  Her lips touched mine, a sweet chaste kiss.

  My groin began to stir. It had been a while since I’d made love to a young woman—or any woman for that matter.

  Her lips parted, telling me she just might be willing.

  I tested the edges of those luscious lips with the tip of my tongue.

  She opened them wider, definitely inviting me in.

  No, a voice in my head said. Too soon. This one is different.

  I wasn’t ready to explore that different concept, but I heeded the too soon.

  She moaned softly, chipping away at my resistance.

  My tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. It went exploring. Finally, I broke the kiss, gasping a little.