Emily's Window

By Christopher Maddox

As her bodyguard, Clayton had stood just behind Danielle for years, protecting her from whomever or whatever. She was a wealthy socialite with a reputation for being easy, and he had to stand idly by while she went through dozens of men that he knew weren’t worthy of her. When her father died unexpectedly, she was forced to take control of a company that reached around the globe, and overnight, she went from the limelight of the society pages to being a virtual shut-in.

With her love life in shambles, she felt isolated, lonely, and depressed. She looked strong and independent in her business suits, but on the inside, she felt empty and vulnerable. She had no one to lean on until she realized what she needed the most had been standing right behind her all along. Now, she wanted him to fulfill her dreams of love and trust, and to do that, she needed him by her side, not behind her. After watching her throw herself at dozens of men over the years, would she be able to convince him to be her lover as well as her protector?

“This is adult romance at its best with well-written love scenes along with intriguing twists and turns that involve suspense, mystery, and murder.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Maddox
• Release date: May 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310825477

Christopher Maddox

I have always been addicted to love and romance. I like strong, independent women, so I tend to write about strong female characters that either start out strong or develop whatever inner strength is needed to see them through. My heroes and heroines are sometimes flawed because mistakes and imperfections always build character and strength in strong people. Some of my stories are taken from life’s experiences while others are drawn from experiences I wish I’d had. In my world, there are no boundaries to the limitless pleasures that can be found in the female form or from the joy that can be shared between lovers. However, my books are not about page after page of mindless, non-stop sex, but when it is appropriate, I try to make it real. Where love and romance have a chance to blossom, intimacy is usually part of the equation because it is the fuel that ignites the desire that leads to love. I like to think of myself as an adult romance writer with a moral compass. I live in Florida with my wife and three, poorly trained, dogs. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I love happy endings. I love hearing from my readers and appreciate their comments and suggestions. Click on the link below if you would like to send me a message. Thank you. [e-mail]

Book preview

Emily’s Window

Christopher Maddox

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 Christopher Maddox

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All characters in this work are eighteen years of age or older. This is a work of fiction intended for adults 18 years of age and over. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Feelings of Melancholy

Chapter 2 Difficulties in Durango

Chapter 3 The Investigation

Chapter 4 The Morning After

Chapter 5 Durango

Chapter 6 Digging In

Chapter 7 Worth Waiting For

Chapter 8 What’s With the FBI?

Chapter 9 A Romantic Picnic

Chapter 10 Sorting Out the Pieces

Chapter 11 Stalling For Time

Chapter 12 Mason’s Marauders

Chapter 13 Who is Randy Falstaff?

Chapter 14 Applying Pressure

Chapter 15 Good News and Bad News

Chapter 16 Unexpected Opportunity

Chapter 17 Making a Difference

Chapter 18 Someone to Save

Chapter 19 Finding the Right Person

Chapter 20 Back to Durango

Chapter 21 Unwelcome Discoveries

Chapter 22 Making Plans for the Future

Chapter 23 Emily’s Window

Chapter 24 Becoming One with the Land

Epilogue Loose Ends

Free Excerpt Bruised But Not Broken

Additional Work

Chapter 1

Feelings of Melancholy

Danielle Mason was standing next to the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass, looking down at the street below. It was seven-thirty in the evening, and she was just finishing some of the miscellaneous items that were left over from her busy day. Unfortunately, she thought, this day wasn’t any different from every other day since her father had passed away. She walked over to the lacquered, light-gray, zebrawood wall that separated her offices from her small living quarters. She used the small apartment that had been built into her spacious offices when she had to work late or didn’t feel like taking the thirty-minute helicopter ride to her place in upstate New York.

She pushed a small button recessed into the wall, and it opened up to expose a fully stocked wet bar. The bar was brilliantly lit and looked like a beacon that shone too brightly in the otherwise subdued, indirect lighting that her offices were now set on. She had turned the lights down so she could better see the skyline across Manhattan come to life and dispel the shadows left by the sun as it slowly sank in the west.

Reaching into the icemaker, she placed a couple of ice cubes in a Baccarat decanter, poured herself an inch of vintage Glenlivet Scotch, and immediately hit the button, closing the bar along with its objectionable light.

She walked back to the glass wall, swirled the ice with her finger, and looked out across the city. She looked down at the street below and thought about all of the neat, sexy places and the trendy hotspots where she used to go to party. She smiled as she recalled some of the hunky guys she used to date. She had gone through her share of wealthy, eligible bachelors, including a few from old-money families that were part of the so-called aristocratic bluebloods.

However, much to her father’s dismay, she had always been drawn toward bad boys like movie stars, ball players, and racecar drivers. There had even been rumors of a rock star or two. Ahhhh, those were the days, she whispered, not a care in the world.

Deep in thought, contemplating her eight- to ten-hour workdays, she took a sip of the cool, burning liquid. What the hell happened to my life? she mumbled.

The intercom beeped. Yes, Melinda.

Will there be anything else this evening, Miss. Mason?

Melinda had been her personal assistant since just a few months after she was forced to take the reins of her father’s company two years ago.

Oh, I’m sorry, Melinda. No. You can leave now. Have a good evening.

Shall I call Clayton for you?

No, I’ll call him. I think I’m going to spend the night here and order something from Pulse upstairs. See you in the morning.

Clayton Emmerson was her personal bodyguard. He had been looking after her for about six years now. Her father had insisted on her having protection twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He said that it’s cheaper to hire protection than it is to pay ransom and have to deal with the possible consequences that surrounded kidnappings. She had vehemently resisted her father on this issue. There was no way she wanted a damned bodyguard following her around all of the time. He was adamant and unmovable about his position, telling her that she could either have a bodyguard, or the money she played with would slow to a trickle.

She picked up the phone and called him.

Good evening, Danielle.

Hey, Clayton.

Are you ready to leave?

No, I’m going to stay here this evening and order something from Pulse. I won’t need you until tomorrow around noon. I’m having lunch with Blanchard tomorrow at Nick’s Steak House.

Are you sure that you’re not going out somewhere?

Yes, dammit; I’m sure. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here tonight. Why don’t you go get laid? It’ll help your disposition.

He chuckled. Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll be at your office at noon tomorrow. If you need anything or change your mind, call me. Have a good evening, Danielle.

Thanks, Clayton. I’ll see you tomorrow.

She chuckled remembering the first time her father brought her into his office to meet Clayton. She had taken an immediate dislike to him. He was huge, standing six foot three inches tall with dark-brown hair and unnerving blue eyes that appeared to look right through you. He was 260 pounds of solid, ex-Navy SEAL, and as far as she was concerned, he was hired to do nothing more than spy on her. At that time, he was thirty, and she was twenty-seven. She had a very active social life, which meant that she was getting her fair share of sex by any number of different men.

The first two months of their relationship was rocky, to say the least. She spent whatever effort it took to give him the slip, so he wouldn’t be able to spy on her and ultimately tell her father whom she was sleeping with.

Clayton earned his stripes with her one evening while she was in the process of trying to give him the slip by ducking out of the rear of a restaurant where she was having dinner. When she got to the alley and looked around for her ride, he grabbed her roughly by the arm, spun her around, and forced her up against an old, sooty brick wall.

He glared down at her. The intensity and focus in his eyes are something she remembers to this day.

Look you spoiled little bitch, I really don’t care who you fuck or how many times you do them. It’s only my business to the extent that I know you’re safe, and it’s none of your father’s business as long as I’m doing my job. So why don’t you just let me know who you are going to be with, so I can check them out ahead of time? If we can agree to this accommodation, I’ll fade into the background of your life, or your father can get you another bodyguard.

She recalled laughing at the time because she knew he was right. She was a spoiled bitch. Okay, she said, wrenching her arm away from him. Here’s where I’ll be and who I’m going to be with, she said indignantly, handing him a piece of paper.

He shook his head. That’s not how it works. You’re not getting into any car with someone I don’t know from now on. I’ll take you in the Escalade, and on the way, I’ll check him out, he said with finality in his voice.

Then, there was the time she met one of the NFL’s top players for a late dinner at an out-of-the-way place not frequented by her crowd. During the course of the evening, she decided that she did not want to sleep with him, which was a rare occurrence, by the way. He was too into himself, not very bright, and a horrible bigot.

When it came time to leave, she gave him a hug as they exited the restaurant. She thanked him for the pleasure of his company, bid him good night and waited for Clayton to bring the car around. Not knowing that Clayton was on his way, Mr. NFL, feeling a little too much wine and way too much testosterone, insisted that she wasn’t going anywhere other than back to his place. When she refused, he grabbed her wrist and was in the process of dragging her to his van when Clayton got there. The player ended up missing six games due to a dislocated shoulder and three broken ribs. The franchise had reported to the news that he had suffered an unfortunate accident during training.

Taking another sip of her scotch, she looked down from the fiftieth floor of the Rockefeller Building where her company’s headquarters occupied the entire floor. Her offices were situated on the southwest corner.

Obviously, it had been her father’s office before he unexpectedly succumbed to lung cancer. She smiled as she remembered how happy it had always made him whenever she stopped by for a visit. She would always kiss him on top of his balding head and tease him unmercifully about spending too much time at work.

He had it decorated in what she used to call early depression. It seemed more like an old, dark, stale men’s club where good old boys would sit around, smoke cigars, sip whiskey, and pat cute little waitresses on their bottoms. It had been crammed with way too many dark-brown, over-stuffed chairs and sofas. It had a huge, dark-brown desk and tables that sported those God-awful, little green glass and brass desk lamps. To make matters worse, the walls were covered with the same dark-brown paneling and bookshelves that her father’s desk was made of.

The living quarters was accessed through a six-foot-long corridor that had a walk-in closet on one side and a powder room on the other. The powder room was used by guests who visited him from time to time. The modest living quarters consisted of a large bedroom with a small seating area with a small dining table. It had floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the city, just as his office did. The master bath had a marble tub, shower, two washbasins, and a steam room.

She had suffered with her father’s dark, depressing décor for six months until she couldn’t take it any longer and had the entire suite redecorated in lighter, livelier colors. She updated everything with a combination of steel gray and light-purple suede with accents in light-gray zebrawood and brushed nickel.

She picked up her cell phone and called Pulse.

Hello, Barton? This is Danielle. Could you send down a grilled chicken Ceasar and a bottle of my favorite Sauvignon Blanc?

Certainly, Miss Mason. Will twenty minutes be okay?

Yes. Twenty minutes will be fine. Thank you, Barton.

Alone and lonely, she was feeling a little sorry for herself and was in a reflective mood. She’d never known her mother as she had died during childbirth. From the numerous photographs she had seen of her mother and from what everyone had told her, she looked exactly like her. That was part of the reason why her father indulged her every whim. She was five feet ten inches tall with a thin, sinuous body. She was almost skinny, resembling the average runway model. She had powder-blue eyes and long, blond hair that curled down below her breasts, which were small but perky, and they bounced alluringly when not confined. It was her bottom that she was most proud of, and she loved the way it filled out her Ralph Lauren jeans or her YSL pencil skirt.

Her father had died abruptly at the age of fifty-five, living only six weeks after his diagnosis. She was his only child and the sole heir to his vast fortune. She had no idea that he expected her to take control and run the company after he was gone. She was completely overwhelmed because this was a task for which she was totally unprepared. Sure, she had graduated from Wharton School of Business at her father’s insistence, but that was five years prior, and she hadn’t been active in his business affairs. In fact, she had shown no interest in them whatsoever.

At the end of the day, however, she had no option. Her father had made it a condition of his will that she had to give it five years of her life before she could turn it over and let others run it for her. It had been his plan to bring her on board when he felt she had matured to the point where she was through sewing her wild oats, as he had put it. Well, that didn’t happen, so he had to rely on others to guide her, to council and teach her the company business.

In the six short weeks he had left, he spent all his time schooling her on how the company operated and how to control it. The thing that he emphasized over and over was that you don’t have to be the smartest person in the world to run a large company. He stressed that you didn’t have to know every last detail or where everything was located. What you did have to be able to do was select good people and delegate. Let them run their part of the business by getting out of their way so long as they are successful, which usually meant making money for the company.

He had four key people that reported to him, and he brought them into his hospital room for a meeting with her.

Patrick Johnson, President and Chief Executive Officer, was in charge of all day-to-day operations.

Peter Smith was Vice President of Operations. He was the person who ran field operations, which meant that he was the one that usually did most of the traveling, overseeing all field offices and operations.

Andrew Ritter, Vice President of Human Resources, was in charge of finding new talent, company policies, benefits, and generally, everything else that no one else wanted to do.

Paul McCormick was Vice President and Chief Legal Counsel, and as his title implied, was in charge of all their legal issues, which were generally quite a few.

She twirled the ice in her glass and recalled her father’s words in the hospital that afternoon.

"I think everyone here knows my daughter, Dani. Guys, in a few short weeks, she will be the sole owner of Mason Industries, and as such, she will assume the position of Chairwoman of the Board and will be your boss. I hope and expect that each of you will show and give her the same respect, help, and loyalty that you’ve given me all these years. In other words, I expect each of you to help her, and teach her how the company runs. Dani, these guys are Mason Industries. They’re here so we don’t have to answer the phone in the middle of the fucking night all the time," he laughed, coughing with the small plastic tube inserted into his nose, supplying the oxygen he desperately needed to keep him alive.

The meeting had been short, lasting all of ten minutes, when her father dismissed them. She had been staying by his side most all of the time, so when they left, he confided to her that none of these people were indispensable. He told her that any of them could be replaced by people working under them or by bringing someone in from the outside.

She took another sip of her scotch, recalling his next few, incredibly important, words. If any of them challenge your position or your authority, give them an opportunity to recant and fall in line. However, if they don’t, you must fire them immediately, or you will lose respect and eventually control. If you maintain their respect, you will retain their loyalty, and you’ll be successful. I know that I’m handing you a large plate full, but I know you can do this, he insisted. There’s just one more thing, Dani. If you need any personal advice about anyone or anything concerning the company, go to Lillie. She knows everything, he finished as he started one of his coughing spells.

He passed away three days later, and she found herself alone, the last Mason spanning three generations. Lillie had been his personal assistant for nearly twenty years. She and Danielle were with him every day, and they were both there with him when he died. She was truly grief stricken and cried like a baby right along with Danielle.

The week after the funeral, she came into the office to see Lillie. Her office was right outside of her father’s office. After she had hugged Danielle like one of her own, she handed her a large, sealed, manila envelope and told her to open it in private as per her father’s instructions. She told Danielle that she would stay on for as long as she was needed. She went on to say she had been loyal to her father, and she would be loyal to her as well.

Lillie opened the door to her father’s office and escorted her in.

Dani, can I get you anything? How about a cup of coffee or a bottle of water?

Danielle smiled. Thank you, Lillie. You’re so sweet. A cup of coffee would be nice if you have some made.

After bringing Danielle the coffee, she left her alone to open and read the contents of the envelope.

Dani, you’re reading this so it means that I’m gone and you are in charge now. There’s something that I’ve never told you or anyone else before now, something you need to know. Lillie will be your friend. The reason why I never remarried or even dated after your mother died was because Lillie and I have been lovers for over twenty-five years. She has been my confidant and soul mate. She knows this company as well as I do and you can confide in her. She has watched you grow up, and she cares for you almost as if you were one of her own children. Trust her and use her.

Love, Dad.

She knew the words by heart. She should. She’s read them enough in the last two years. She walked over to the wet bar and squinted as she opened it to get some more ice and a little more scotch. She looked up at the mirror behind the glass shelving and crystal decanters only to see the tears that she knew were there, streaming down her face. The thought of her father and Lillie being in love all those years, and keeping it a secret, had always saddened her. Dani and Lillie became close friends, and she became Dani’s most trusted counselor.

She closed the wet bar again and returned to the vast expanse of glass while she swirled the ice, listening to the cubes as they tumbled around in circles confined by the cut crystal. Dani looked out across the skyline and wondered what Lillie was doing right then.

She’s probably bouncing a grandchild on her knee, she chuckled.

With Lillie’s counsel, the transition had gone fairly well, and she knew that if it weren’t for her help, she might not have made it, probably wouldn’t have made it.

My father knew what he was doing. He knew I could do it because he knew I would have Lillie for as long as I needed her, she said, her voice cracking with emotion. After a while, Dani began to think of Lillie as the mother she never had, a person she could always fall back on for solace and advice.

This evening was one of those rare moments that she allowed herself to become introspective, almost melancholy, thinking that nothing is as it was. Her father was gone. Lillie was at home now with her husband and grandkids. Yes, the reason that they could never be a couple openly was because Lillie would only give her father a small part of her life. She would never get a divorce and break up her family, and Dani often wondered why her father would settle for such a small, fractured part of her.

About a year ago, Lillie confided in Dani, over a couple of drinks after work, that she was the real reason her father had built the apartment next to his office. That way, they could have complete privacy and comfort anytime they wanted it. Lillie had laughed, saying that she had to work late on many occasions.

Danielle lifted her glass, looked up, and offered her father a toast.

Here’s to you, Dad, she must have been one hell of a terrific piece of ass, she smiled happily, knowing that her father had comfort and companionship during all those years. You weren’t quite as alone as everyone had thought all those years, Daddy.

Taking another sip of scotch, she recalled that she didn’t have long to wait for the first challenge to her authority. It was during the first monthly executive meeting after her father’s death. They were always held in the large conference room where they had all of the electronic audiovisual equipment that they might need. After everyone had given their monthly reports, Peter Smith, the VP of Operations, stated that he didn’t think that he could continue to operate under the current management structure.

At the time, all she knew was that she didn’t like the sound of his statement and asked him to explain. He went on to say that he thought it was unfair that Patrick Johnson hadn’t been made Chairman. He also felt that he should have been appointed President and CEO, and he just couldn’t accept it. She remembered her father’s words spoken in the hospital not more than four weeks prior. She remembered being nervous as hell when she asked if anyone else felt that way, and thank God, no one else said a word. She asked Peter if he would like to reconsider his position. She felt nauseous, wondering how it was going to turn out, as she waited for his response. He finally responded, saying that he felt that, for the good of the company, she should step down. He went on to say that if she were to do that, she could go back to partying and spending money, and they would do their best to see to it that the company stayed on track.

She took another sip of scotch, reflecting back to that moment. She had thought that his remarks were rude and condescending. She stood up, looked him squarely in the eyes, and told him that if he felt that way, his services were no longer required and that he was terminated effectively immediately. Clayton escorted him to his office where he gathered his personal effects, and he was escorted out of the building never to return.

She chuckled, recalling the standing ovation she received from the three remaining executives, including Lillie, who had always accompanied her father to these meetings. They all pledged their support, and they were not sorry to see Peter Smith go. She told Patrick Johnson to select a replacement for Peter and that was that.

Later, Dani was told by Patrick that he had selected Martin Rivers as Smith’s replacement. Martin had been one of Peter’s assistants, and Patrick assured her that he knew the business just as well as Peter had. They all had lunch the following day, and she had an opportunity met Martin. She later told Patrick that, from what she saw in his personnel file and from what she had gathered from their luncheon, he had made a good choice.

Melinda had been her choice for her new assistant after Lillie had informed her that she would like to retire. She had come out of operations and knew a lot about the operational side of the business. Fortunately, Lillie stayed on for a couple more months to train Melinda and didn’t leave until she was sure that she would be leaving Dani in good hands.

There was a knock on the door. Thank God, my dinner’s here, she chuckled because she was over drinking scotch. The waiter set her dinner on the dining table in her living quarters and opened the wine. She signed the check and thanked him as he left.

She turned on the television and surfed between CNN and FOX News. She sipped her wine and began toying with her salad. About half way through her dinner, she looked at the empty chairs around the table, and for the second time that night, she wondered how it had all happened.

What happened to my life? she mumbled.

She contemplated the question, trying to recall the last time she got laid. The last time was with Blanchard Morton, and that had to have been almost two months ago. She used to have a real sex life. She used to have sex several times a week, and sometimes, she had it several times a day.

This sucks, she said, unhappy because of her situation.

Here she was, one of the more powerful women in the country, an ex-socialite, and now, she has no social life. No social life, as far as she was concerned, meant that she wasn’t getting any. A person in her position, she had learned, can’t trust just anyone. It’s always a gamble when you meet someone new, and you don’t really know who they are. At least, she had Clayton for that. He screened everyone that she came into contact with. She knew that there were a lot of people out there that would try to use her position for their own benefit, even if it were just to sell a story to one of the cheap tabloids.

That’s why she had always tried to keep in contact with her old college friends. She had already had sex all of them and knew that they did not want publicity any more than she did. She thought about her father and the fact that he had Lillie for almost twenty-five years. Their relationship had been both sad and wonderful at the same time. How fortunate for him to have had someone he could trust that he worked with. Someone he had a close, intimate relationship with who he knew would always have his back because she loved him.

Hmmm, close, intimate relationship means sex, she mumbled. That’s what I need, a boy toy, she laughed. That would solve a good portion of my problems with sex or the lack thereof, she said quietly as she took a sip of wine.

That’s it, she thought. She needed to hire someone to get her coffee and open her mail. She needed someone she could trust to check the under counter refrigerator in the bar to make sure it had plenty of bottled water. But she especially needed someone to help her lock up at night and then open a bottle of wine. After a glass of wine or two and a couple of soft, tender kisses, she really needed someone to … Fuck me, she said aloud with a giggle.

The problem was, the only way you can buy silence and discretion were with love. Boy toys would eventually talk. The only reason that it worked for Dad was because Lillie loved him dearly, and apparently, he loved her in return. True love is the only currency that can buy that kind of loyalty. Furthermore, she wasn’t about to fall foolishly in love with some bimbo boy toy that may or may not love her in return. How can you tell if someone truly loves you? You can’t, she mused. There’s no way, and she learned that painful lesson at an early age.

She was barely sixteen and madly in love with a guy who was nineteen. He professed his undying love and swore that he would never leave her. To make the proverbial long story short, as soon as he got what he wanted, he left her bleeding and spiritually broken. She had been wounded to the point that she’s never fully trusted another man since. In fact, over the years, whenever anyone would get too close to her and start talking about love and commitment, she would pull away with feelings of insecurity and mistrust.

The only lover she had ever known that she knew she could trust completely and would never let her down, unless the batteries failed, was her vibrator.

That reminds me. Tomorrow, I need to call maintenance and have them bring me a new packet of Cs in case of an emergency, she laughed.

She was horny as hell and needed someone, but she didn’t know anyone she could call on. Blanchard wouldn’t be in town until tomorrow. She could only hope that he had enough time to spend an afternoon with her, or perhaps, he might even be able to spend the night. They could go to her estate in upstate New York, or they could spend the night here in Manhattan at a hotel. If push came to shove, they could always just have sex here in her office.

Most of the guys she used to party with were either getting married or were already married with a family. At this rate, she thought, she was doomed to be a spinster.

She took a bite of her grilled chicken, thinking that she was being paid back for all of her indiscretions and for all the sex she’d had when she was younger. Why is it that a guy can go out and hire an escort or a hooker, and no one thinks too much of it, right? He’s just getting off. It’s no big deal. However, let a woman go out and hire a male escort and it’s a completely different story. If she gets caught, she’s labeled a loser, someone who can’t get laid on her own.

Well, that sounds pretty much like me. I can’t get laid on my own, she snickered.

She finished her dinner and called the restaurant to have them pick up the tray. She always set it in the hall just outside of her office. She took her wine and retired back to her bedroom and readied herself for bed, alone.

Damn it all, she complained.

Pulling the sheets back, she replaced the decorator pillows with the down-filled ones stored in her closet. She removed her clothing and jumped into bed naked as she had difficulty sleeping with anything on. Pajamas and nighties would always twist around her body during the night and wake her up. She lay there for a while, listening to the news and thinking about Blanchard coming back tomorrow. Just saying Blanchard and coming in the same sentence was getting her aroused. She laid her hand across her forehead and contemplated tomorrow with him. He wasn’t the sexiest guy in the world, but then, she wasn’t Beyonce either when it came to cleavage.

The bottom line was that she knew she could go into any bar and get laid if she wanted to. The problem was that there was too big a chance that it would end up on the front page of one of those scandal sheets the following morning.

She reached down and felt herself.

What a waste. Someone could be enjoying this right now, she giggled as she ran her fingers through her tightly cropped hair. She gently ran the tips of her fingers over her outer lips, teasing out the moistened hair folded between them. Mmmm, she moaned as her fingers dipped down to her wet opening. She slid one of them inside and slowly rubbed over her g-spot for a moment. She breathed deeply through her flared nostrils as exquisite sensations began flowing from deep within her.

Sliding her finger slowly out of herself, she used the same soft, gentle touch as she ran them up through her swollen outer lips, parting them and exposing her moist, delicate inner lips. Her tummy tightened, and she curled up slightly when her fingers caressed the tip of her clitoris. She quivered, knowing that she had to complete her task if she were going to get any sleep that night.

Using her moistened middle finger, she gently rubbed the sensitive hood, rolling the skin back and forth over her swollen nub. She breathed deeply through her nose and lingered on her clit, circling it, rubbing and caressing it as she felt that uniquely delicious feeling begin to coil deep within her.

She stopped for a moment, thinking she would reach for her vibrator. While quietly lying there, she realized that her breath had quickened. Her heart was pounding solidly within her chest, and she knew she was more turned on than she had thought.

She slid her finger back over her clit, her pelvis lunging upward in an involuntary impulse of need. Her body was telling her that it needed something inside. She moved her other hand down so she could feel herself with both hands. Her fingers rolled slowly and ever so gently over her hooded clit, creating the most delicious feelings deep within. She tried to slow down, but her need was too great, and her body was demanding more.

She began rubbing her two middle fingers back and forth over her engorged clitoris. She reached down and gathered more of her wetness, returning them immediately to the center of her need. She applied more pressure and began rubbing her three middle fingers rapidly back and forth over her tight nugget. Soft snapping sounds of deliciously wet sex were coming from between her legs as her fingers rubbed aggressively back and forth over her rigid, swollen mass. Her thighs tightened and began quivering as her pelvis repeatedly thrust in search of something to quell the desperate need within her body.

She reached down and teased her sensitive entrance with the middle finger of her other hand. Moaning, with her hips quivering, she thrust them upward and slid her finger inside in hopes of finding relief. Her fingers circled and snapped over her clit as she inserted a second finger inside her sex.

Oh, yes, she moaned, rocking her hips rhythmically up and down, meeting her fingers halfway. Her clit was aching and throbbing as she plunged her fingers deep inside, stroking herself repeatedly as she brought herself closer to the edge. She cried out and spasmed as her orgasm finally detonated deep within her womb, numbing her senses to everything except for the immediate, overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body.

When the last vestige of her orgasm had passed, she lay quietly, breathing deeply with a soft, gentle smile, a smile of joy and contentment. Her nipples were stiff and achy, almost burning. Keeping her fingers inside of her as she calmed, she firmly squeezed each of her nipples with her other hand. She knew her breasts were not large. She giggled. Okay, so they’re small, she mused, but she had been told, on many occasions, that they were rock-star perfect with tight little nipples that could cut glass when aroused.

She was completely relaxed and began to feel sleepy. She took a deep, yawning breath and exhaled with a long, mournful sigh. It was a sigh of complete satisfaction as her body relaxed and sank deeper into the feather bed.

Thank God for my sweet, little girl down there and the wonderful, little orgasms she gives me, she mumbled softly as sleep quickly overtook her.

Chapter 2

Difficulties in Durango

She woke up at seven-thirty and walked naked through the connecting corridor leading to her office. She pushed a different recessed button in the wall and it slid to the side, exposing a mini kitchen with a built-in Miele coffee maker. She placed a porcelain cup under the dispenser and punched medium. She didn’t have to worry about anyone walking in on her because the only person that was allowed in her office, without her permission, was Melinda. Even the cleaning crews were not allowed in any of the executive offices, including hers, unless their personal assistants were there to watch them. They had a special crew that cleaned the five main executive’s offices. The cleaning was done by an appointment only and was scheduled by each of their personal assistants.

While she waited for her coffee to brew, she opened the under counter refrigerator and poured herself a glass of fresh orange juice. She smiled, remembering her thoughts the evening before about hiring a boy toy, so she could watch him stock water bottles in the refrigerator, and perform some other essential duties.

She took her coffee and walked over to the glass wall. She paused for a moment, looking out over the city as it came to life on a gloriously, sunny Friday morning. It was essentially the same view that she had looked at the evening before while she pondered her life. The only real difference was that the shadows were now coming from a different direction.

She had a sobering thought about staying here in her office apartment for the night. Here she was, standing there naked, looking out over the city. She just came into her office from her bedroom to get some coffee and was about to go back, take a shower, and dress for the day. If she kept this up, staying here day and night, that is, it’s entirely possible she could turn into a recluse.

Just like Howard-fucking-Hughes, she grumbled with a grin.

She grabbed a binder lying on her desk and returned to the bedroom, climbed back in bed, and propped herself up against the headboard. The binder gave her a monthly summary of the company’s financial position by department. Most of the company’s holdings were in oil, natural gas, coal, and transmission services. Transmission services meant moving goods like oil and gas through pipelines, shipping, and rail. They had spun off some of their earnings by investing in real estate, mostly resort properties. In addition to their core business and traditional investments, they were experimenting with a few pilot projects, involving wind and solar power generation. Thank God, Dad hadn’t liked golf and refused to invest in golf club communities. He was right, she mused. Those properties were in the tank now.

Patrick Johnson called for an unscheduled executive meeting at ten o’clock in the small conference room. He called Danielle and asked her if she could attend because he felt that she should be made aware of a problem they were having in Colorado. He mentioned that it had something to do with oil leases.

Once she finished her coffee, she took a quick shower and got ready for work. When she was dressed, she went out to Melinda’s office just to say good morning. It was Danielle’s way of letting her know she was up and ready to start her day.

Good morning, Melinda.

Good morning, Danielle, she said, walking past her with a stack of papers for her in-basket. Melinda looked around and saw that she didn’t have any coffee.

Can I get you some more coffee? she asked as she headed toward the coffee maker.

That would be nice. Thank you, she said as she sat down at her desk to continue her review of the financial report.

Melinda placed the coffee on her desk. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?

Oh, yes. Would you give me a five-minute notice for a ten o’clock meeting I have in the small conference room?

Certainly, she nodded with a smile as she left the room.

Her intercom buzzed at precisely nine fifty-five. It’s time for your meeting, Miss Mason.

Thank you, Melinda, she chuckled, it’s a good thing I had you remind me because I got engrossed in the financials, and I completely lost track of time, she said as she got up to head for the meeting.

Patrick cleared his throat. Here’s the situation, Danielle. Our geologists tell us that they think one of the richest oil deposits in the country is in the southwestern part of Colorado. The closest town of any size is Durango. The area is primarily cattle country, and most of the ranches are quite large. As a result, the owners are already wealthy, so they are not particularly motivated to deal with us. Eventually, however, we were able to get permission from some of the landowners to let Schlumberger in for seismic testing. The results have not been reported yet, but they indicate that our geologists were right on. The place is loaded with oil. Obviously, we can’t tell what the quality is until we drill a couple test holes, but the depth of it indicates that it should be a high-quality, high-aromatic, sweet crude.

Danielle looked perplexed. And the problem is?

Patrick frowned, looking tentatively at Martin Rivers. The problem is that most of the deposits appear to lie under a large ranch that we’ve never been able to get our seismic equipment on. The owner actually owns his own mineral rights, so we have to go through him to access his land, and he has no interest in having anything to do with oil or oil people. We have tested all around his property, and the results lead us to believe that most of the reserves lie directly under his ranch.

Danielle smiled. Who is this cowboy?

Martin looked at her. His name is Dagert, Cody Dagert.

With a name like Cody, he sounds like he just stepped out of a John Wayne movie, she said with a slight chuckle.

Martin looked at his notes. That’s the problem; he’s not what his name implies. He’s thirty-one and the sole owner of one of the largest, contiguous cattle ranches in the country. It’s a little over one hundred and eighty-seven thousand acres. His parents were killed in a private plane crash two years ago on their way back from Denver. He graduated from Harvard Business School five years ago, and he has no interests, that we know of, outside of ranching.

Martin looked up again and added. Oh, yes. He’s loosely quoted as saying that he was born and raised on that ranch, and he plans to die there.

Danielle looked at Martin. Is he married?

Martin smiled. No, he’s single.

How much do we really know about him? How financially secure is the ranch? If he’s thirty-one, he’s most likely loaded with testosterone. Does he date?

Patrick spoke up. Since the ranch is a privately held corporation, we can’t find any information about their net worth or their financial condition, other than they have excellent credit.

Martin, does he date? Does he have any dirty laundry? she asked again.

Martin looked at Danielle, feeling somewhat embarrassed. That’s about everything we have on him. I don’t know if he dates or not.

What’s he like? she asked as a way of finding out if Martin had actually met him.

I’m told by our leasing agents that he’s pleasant enough. He’s always willing to talk with them, but they just can’t get his signature on the dotted line.

So you haven’t met him then. As important as this lease is to our company, don’t you think we should be sending someone out there besides our regular leasing agents?

Patrick Johnson spoke up in Martin’s defense. Danielle, it was our thinking that if we sent someone from our offices, it would look like we were desperate for the leases, and it would put upward pressure on the price.

Danielle stood up. I don’t think it’s money that our Harvard-educated cowboy is interested in. If we’re going to get those leases, we’re going to have to find another way besides money to get them. Martin, I think I would like to get your personal take on what he’s like, and see if you can make any headway with him. Patrick, could you make a copy of his file for me? I’d like to have it by eleven-thirty, before I leave for lunch, if possible. Let’s do this again next Friday at the same time. Thanks for filling me in, gentlemen.

I’ll leave for Durango this afternoon, Miss Mason, said Martin.

Clayton was in Melinda’s office, waiting to take Danielle to Nick’s to meet Blanchard there for lunch. She went out to greet him personally instead of simply calling Melinda and having her escort him into her office. It was a courtesy that she showed to him and to him alone. Over the years, they had developed a mutual respect, and she trusted him.

He was always friendly and polite to everyone, but he wasn’t someone you could talk down to. Just his physical appearance alone commanded a certain amount of respect, but obviously, she didn’t treat him with regard or respect because she had to, she did so because she wanted to. She had gotten used to his physical presence, and she felt safe when he was close by.

She smiled warmly at him. Hi, Clayton. Could you please come in for a minute? I have something I need to talk to you about before we leave. Once inside her office, she asked him if he would like anything. He nodded with a smile, went over to the refrigerator, and got himself a bottle of water.

She handed him the file on Cody Dagert.

Clayton, this file represents everything that we know about Cody Dagert. He’s a rancher that lives in Durango, Colorado, and our guys can’t seem to find out much about him. I want to know everything there is to know about him, especially, any dirt. I want to know about arrest records, any possible jail time, likes and dislikes, and if he dates, she smiled.

If he dates, I want to know all you can find out about whom he dates and what kind of girls he likes. He’s thirty-one, and my guess is that he’s getting it somewhere. If he’s not getting laid, he must be gay. If he is gay, I need to know it, and I need to know who his lover is.

On their way to Nick’s, she filled him on why she needed the information. He’s one of the largest ranchers in Colorado with 187,000 acres of land, and as far as we can tell, it’s saturated with oil. We’ve done a lot of testing on the surrounding ranches, and it all points to his ranch being located right on top of the main reserves. He won’t even let us on his land to do any seismic testing. He doesn’t want anything to do with oil, and we need his signature on a lease agreement. So far, we’ve been totally unsuccessful.

Clayton looked over at her. How much time do I have?

I would like to have anything you can find out about him by next Thursday. I need to review it before I go to a meeting that’s scheduled for the following day, she replied, glancing briefly at him.

He looked back at her for a moment. That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll have to send someone to Durango to snoop around. You know, some of the seedier places. The kinds of places that aren’t likely to show up on the internet.

She frowned and looked at him with concern. Clayton, can’t you go yourself? This is critical for us, and I want it to be done right. I trust your judgment, and when I get the report, I know it will be accurate.

He smiled at her. Sure, I can go. But I need to get someone in here to take my place while I’m gone. I need someone that I can trust to do what I want them to do, and not what you want them to do.

She frowned and gave him a look of contempt. Did you get laid last night as I suggested?

He gave her the same look in return.

She smiled. Yea, I didn’t either. You know, I had a lot more fun back when you were chasing me out through the back doors of restaurants, she laughed.

He chuckled. I don’t doubt that at all. What do you want me to do while you’re at Nick’s?

Trying to keep from looking directly at him, she strained and looked at him, as best as she could, out of the corner of her eye.

Wait for me until I know what we’re going to do after lunch. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. And, by the way, find someone else to go to Durango. I’m not going to put up with someone else’s shit.

She looked around Nick’s and spotted Blanchard at the rear of the dining room where it was generally quieter. There you are, Blanchard. How are you, darling? she asked, giving a warm hug and a light kiss on his lips.

He got up to greet her. Ah, Dani, you look so delicious. It’s been way too long. How have you been? he asked as he pulled the seat out for her.

Dani gave him a sweet smile. Thank you, Blanchard. You’re always such a gentleman. You’re getting sexier looking every time I see you, she said, flattering him.

He was five feet eleven inches tall and very thin. He probably weighed around one hundred and sixty-five pounds. He had long, curly, dark-brown hair, a handsome face with a few deep pockmarks that didn’t detract from his looks. She thought it made him look more rugged if it were possible to make Blanchard look rugged. Rugged was something that Blanchard definitely wasn’t. His hands were slender with long, thin fingers. They were hands that looked as though they had never done a day’s work in their life, which, of course, they hadn’t.

He reached over and took her