Replay Book 7: Wing Men Page 2

  “Please, pardon my intrusion,” said Piers, “but the clock has struck seven. Let us adjourn to the dining room, where you may continue your discussion over dinner, hmm?”

  It wasn’t a request. Recognizing a command, however civilly he’d phrased it, Alex grinned unrepentantly at Miss Eastman. “Shall we?”

  She took the arm that he proffered and walked with him to the dining room, matching her stride to his, which he’d shortened to allow for her heels. Eleanor slipped away, headed for the other guests.

  Entering the formal dining room, Miss Eastman was brought up short at the sight of extra place settings. She pressed a hand to her stomach, caught her lower lip between her teeth, and worried it. She wore the barest amount of makeup on her porcelain skin, the merest brush of mascara and a sheer gloss on her lips that was quickly disappearing.

  “Only friends here,” he assured her. “Good food, good wine, and good company—or I try to be.”

  Someone had set elegantly lettered place cards on the table. Alex found Miss Eastman’s between his and Sir Josef’s. Across the table would be her former schoolmate Aubrey Wolfe, Luc Vashon (who had taught at Juilliard), Jannet MacDonald, and architect Ian McGregor, Jannet’s Dominant and significant other.

  He felt her tension ease when she recognized the two young women.

  “Miss Eastman. Lara,” Piers said. “I believe that you have met everyone here, with the exception of Ian McGregor. Ian is the architect responsible for our home and most of Replay’s structures. You know, of course, Jannet MacDonald, Aubrey Wolfe, Mr. Luc Vashon, and Sir Josef.”

  “Yes. What a surprise,” Lara managed. “I’m here to sing,” she blurted. “I had no idea I’d see anyone that I knew.”

  “I came to perform, too,” Aubrey said, allowing Luc to guide her to the table. Sir Josef pulled out two chairs. Luc helped her into one of them, before taking the other. “I played Young Mozart when they were filming Cade Madden and Ashley Slade’s new movie in the resort’s Versailles Room. Sir Josef gave us a reason to stay. This is our home now, when Luc and I aren’t touring.”

  Luc nodded. “We’re keeping our schedule lighter these days. We don’t like to leave Sir alone any more than we have to.” The look he gave Sir Josef was the same one he’d given Aubrey.

  Luc was in love with them both.

  Alex watched Lara, bemused by her reaction as realization dawned. Sir Josef, Luc, and Aubrey were a threesome. A kinky threesome. Pink flared in her cheeks. She found a sudden interest in her antique filigree silver napkin ring.

  Seeing Lara’s discomfiture, Jannet MacDonald chimed in, “I was already here. I’d left the ballet corps when my niece was badly injured in the accident that killed her mother. My brother Micheil moved us all down when he remarried. Ian built their home, too.” She lifted her chin and looked at Piers. “Sorry, but no one’s outdoor kitchen compares to ours.”

  “She’s a grilling fiend,” Ian chuckled. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he bit the back of Jannet’s neck and made her squeal. “She’s already started a garden. Herbs and vegetables. Guaranteed organic. Word of warning, Elly. Lock your door when zucchini season gets here.”

  The tension broke. The rest of the dinner party took their seats, and uniformed servers began ferrying in the courses. Individual salads of endive, arugula, pears, Gorgonzola cheese, and walnuts were tossed in a sherry wine vinegar-and-oil dressing. Next came bowls of boeuf bourguignon, chosen because of Aubrey’s visual impairment and served with warm, crusty bread and a fine, red wine. Dessert was a chocolate almond cake and a special chocolate-flavored coffee shipped from Seattle that had three of the women in raptures.

  Eleanor sighed wistfully. “I gave up caffeine when I learned that I was pregnant,” she told Lara. “I’m waiting until Adrienne is weaned to add it back. The most I allow myself these days is a glass of wine in the evening.”

  Lara paused from cutting her next forkful of cake. “How much longer before you can indulge yourself?” she asked.

  Eleanor laughed. “A long time, I’m afraid. She’s not quite seven weeks old, and she’s already wrapping men around her little fingers. Sorry, Alex. You’re just the latest.”

  Lara slid a glance his direction. There was no mistaking the gleam of interest, which more than matched his own. Lara was intelligent, witty, confident in her abilities, passionate about her work, and eager to learn. Her conversation revealed a kind heart but guarded. The man to woo and win her would first have to gain her trust. That kind of thing just didn’t happen in a weekend.

  If Piers had hoped to play matchmaker, Alex suspected that they were both going to be disappointed.

  Chapter Three

  Upon leaving Sir Piers’s home, Lara drove her rental car back to the bed-and-breakfast where she was staying. She talked to herself the entire way, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. The offer to sing at a World War I event had been a welcome one, easily fitting into a much-too-large blank space on her calendar that had left her wondering how she was going to pay her bills. She’d worked with this big band before. Considering what the resort was paying her, she figured she could put up with their lead singer’s sexist remarks for a night.

  And if Michael Holliday got handsy again, she could sic one of the resort’s Doms on his ass. Yell out red or whatever passed for a safeword.

  Eleanor St. Leger’s had been tofu.

  It turned out that her resort-owner husband was a master of kinbaku, Japanese erotic bondage. Sir Piers had offered to do a demonstration in their basement Dungeon after dinner. Using his wife as his bondage model, he’d laced her in elaborately knotted ropes and suspended her from a beam overhead. A myriad of emotions had played across her face. Anticipation, arousal, need, and eventually bliss, once he’d worked a particular rope and allowed her to orgasm.

  It was the sexiest thing that Lara had ever seen. Now she was regretting her choice to not be vetted and approved for play. She had a feeling that Alex knew his way around a Dungeon as well as his cousin. She was kind of hoping that she’d get a chance to find out, before they parted ways.

  It had been far too long since a man like Alex had crossed her path. She was more than a little fascinated with the aerobatic pilot who loved the challenge of flying vintage aircraft and the thrill of mock aerial combat. It didn’t hurt a thing that he was as handsome as sin, and had that dreamy British accent on top of his good looks and come-hither smile.

  And he was very likely a Dom.

  He had the hallmarks for it. Attentive. Respectful. An intuitive listener who noted her responses to what was said, and done. He might not have admitted to being in the lifestyle, but he hadn’t blinked at anything that happened at his cousin’s home. He’d stood in the Dungeon beside her, silent, watching with the others as Sir Piers worked his magic. Even if she knew nothing about it, she could tell that the Dom was a master of his craft.

  What kinky fuckery was Alex Boulton into? she wondered. Just the possibilities made her wet. As soon as she reached the privacy of her bedroom, she locked the door and went straight for her magic wand. No battery-operated boyfriends for her. She traveled with an extension cord.

  Turning down the covers, she stripped off her clothes, tossed the pillows on the far side of the bed, slid to the center, and stretched out flat on her back. She warmed up first, running her hands up and down her body, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples, rolling the pebbled tips between her fingers and pulling on them, imagining Alex’s mouth suckling her.

  Lara reached for her wand and turned it on her favorite setting. Parting her swollen folds, she applied it to her clit and hung on for the ride, climaxing the first time in a matter of seconds. Wetting her lips, she thrust out her tongue and imagined taking another man in her mouth while Alex owned her pussy.

  She’d been with two men, once—cowboys at a Wild West weekend who had wanted the singer with the golden throat. Normally, she didn’t hook up at events, but there was something about those twins that had worn down h
er resistance until she’d said yes, praying that it wasn’t the biggest mistake of her life.

  What she’d gotten was the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever had. Everything, before or since, paled in comparison.

  Three orgasms later, Lara turned off the wand and laid it aside. She’d clean it in the morning. Right now, all she wanted to do was go to sleep and dream of Alex Boulton, sharing her bed…and her body….

  The next morning, Lara showered, breakfasted, and dressed for the day. Pulling the clothes that she would need this evening, she set out for Replay in the rental car that the resort had agreed to provide for her use.

  The wardrobe mistress, Jewell Fraser, had tentatively approved her dresses. She was withholding final approval until she had seen them in person.

  Lara understood. When you were doing a first-person impression, a lot of time was spent combing through primary source documentation, researching not only whom you were portraying but vernacular, current events, and period clothing. Knowing what something looked like was one thing. Knowing exactly how it was constructed was something else.

  After music, her second love was sewing. Her mother didn’t know how to do anything beyond a running stitch and tacking on buttons. Her favorite aunt had taught her how to lay out a pattern and turn a piece of fabric into something that she could wear. Their first project was a simple, sleeveless jumper. The next was an A-line dress with a wide, boat neckline and short, cap sleeves. Then came a dress with a fitted waist, flared skirt, and a zipper. With each project, she would learn a new technique or skill, until it seemed that she had mastered them all.

  All the modern ones, that is.

  With period sewing, she had to work with boning, hoops, hand-stitched linen buttonholes, and eyelets. To do an accurate portrayal, she needed to be dressed in period-correct clothing from outerwear down to her skin. She knew that she’d won Jewell Fraser’s approval the minute that she’d shown her the bra that she’d made of two silk handkerchiefs, tied with silk ribbons.

  She left the clothes for her evening performance with the wardrobe mistress. Folding her sweater and lightweight coat over her arm, she plucked up her purse and went to the building’s entrance, where a limousine was waiting to take her to the site of this morning’s dogfight.

  The driver, Geoffrey, introduced himself and opened the rear door for her. Ducking her head to enter, she was surprised to see that she would be sharing the ride.

  Not that she had any objections.

  The man was magnificent. Dark hair, dark eyes, with facial bones that hinted at what was Nordic, Slavic…possibly Rus-Viking ancestry. Dressed as an aviator, he nearly vibrated with coiled intensity, as if he were gearing himself up for a real combat mission. He was so focused, she didn’t want to do anything to break his concentration. Sliding silently into place on the opposite seat, she hugged the door and looked at her reflection in the darkened glass.

  Geoffrey put the car in gear and slowly pulled away from Replay’s main building, headed for the event site.

  “I do not bite.”

  Those four small words were all the permission she needed to look at him and indulge her curiosity. With that accent, he was either from Russia or from one of the countries that had comprised the former Soviet Union.

  Whatever he was, he was mesmerizing.

  “That’s disappointing.” She sighed theatrically. “But probably for the best. I’m here as part of the entertainment. I didn’t get vetted to play.”

  The merest hint of a smile ghosted his lips. “Nyet?” He angled his head and ran his gaze over her, from her stylish hat to the silk stockings that disappeared into her chunky-heeled buckled shoes. “What you say…is disappointing me. Now I must finds way to…to… console myself. Yes?”

  She offered a smiled and nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid so. But you can always come and hear me sing tonight, if you’re not tied up. Replay’s Nightclub Room has World War I décor this weekend.”

  He pinned her with his gaze. “In scene, I tie rope.” The Dominant spoke softly but succinctly. He arched an imperious brow. “You understand?”

  She did. Perfectly. His delivery left no doubt as to who would be directing things, given an opportunity to play. “Yes. Sir.”

  “No ‘Sir,’” he rumbled. “For now. Later? We see.”

  She felt the blush rise in her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Please. No. I didn’t mean it like that. I lived in the South when I was a little girl. You were taught to address men and women as ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’ if you didn’t know their name.”

  He nodded slowly and relaxed back in his seat. She did the same.

  “I am Dmitry Chezhekov. And you?”

  “Lara Eastman. I’m a singer. Are you a pilot?”

  “Da. Rússkij here.” He tapped a fist on his chest, then pointed a finger at the roof. “Ich bin Deutsche—I am German—up there.”

  His Russian accent oozed sex appeal, and his German was flawless. Lara had discovered her own talent for languages when learning music to perform, including Italian and German opera.

  He would be flying against Alex and the other British planes this morning.

  “You should have good weather this weekend. At least there’s no rain in the forecast.”

  She’d made certain to look at the hourly predictions so that she would know how to dress. There would be a nip in the early morning air until the sun warmed things up. By mid-afternoon, it would be nearly ninety degrees.

  “Tomorrow is better,” he said. “Cooler. More lift. Is better to fly. Better to fight.”

  He smiled, then. Truly smiled. Pure Alpha male. Master of the air and Master in the bedroom. Just the thought of it made her mouth go dry. She wet her lips and swallowed hard, pressing her legs together to ease the sudden ache between them.

  Watching her, his smile faded and his eyes grew smoky. Hooded. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as if he were capturing her scent and memorizing it.

  She didn’t know what the day would bring, or how tonight would unfold, but she knew one thing.

  Last night, she’d imagined Alex sharing her with another man. If by some miracle that happened, she wanted it to be with Dmitry.

  Chapter Four

  The airstrip wasn’t what she expected. The smell of fresh-cut grass rose from the dew-kissed earth. There were patches of wildflowers where the tarmac should be. Instead of a paved runway, a wide swath of cut grass bisected a huge green field of it. Near the closest end of the runway, a bright orange windsock hung, flaccid and empty in the still morning air.

  A corrugated metal hangar sat to one side, with a vintage fuel truck parked close by. Near each corner and further out, sandbags were stacked in defensive positions.

  The viewing area had been recently mowed. Two antique automobiles and a vintage motorcycle with a side car were parked on the edge of it, adding an air of authenticity to the scene.

  For this morning’s battle, the German airbase would come under attack. There was a flurry of activity as planes were hauled outside and pilots performed their preflight checks. The British planes were moved to the far side of the hangar. The German planes were lined up in a row in front of it. Once the hangar doors were closed, hiding the French planes still inside, a group of German soldiers with spiked helmets raised their country’s flag on the pole.

  In a slight departure from a period military airfield’s appearance, two large wall tents and a massive, blue striped, open-sided tent had been erected. A breakfast buffet was set up beneath the striped tent. A handful of people in vintage clothing were milling around, most of them with plates in hand. Lara recognized Sir Piers’s towering form among them.

  Exiting the limo, she donned her coat with Dmitry’s help and walked with him until they reached the others. “Danke,” she said, acutely aware that he’d been watching her, ready to catch her, should she stumble on the slightly rough ground. “And good luck today. I look forward to watching you.”

  Dmitry lifted his chin and tugged on the white sil
k scarf that was draped around his neck. “And tonight, I watch you. Da?” he rumbled. “Later? We see.”

  There was a world of promise in those two words.

  Watching him walk away, she smiled at the swagger in his step and admired the perfection of his form. His loose-fitting pants were likely held up by suspenders, but there was no hiding that bubble butt of his, shaped by hours of exercise.

  Lara declined Sir Piers’s offer of breakfast but welcomed a cup of English tea. She stood at the edge of the awning, watching the hangar, airplanes, and men. In the line of German fighters, Dmitry hovered by a bright red Fokker DR-1, the triplane favored by the infamous Red Baron. In the row of British planes, Alex Boulton readied his Sopwith Camel biplane.

  The British took off first, each plane gathering speed as it taxied down the runway, lifting off, one by one. There were five British fighters, four with two wings and one with three wings. One biplane had a machine gunner in a second seat behind the pilot, facing the rear of the plane. But Lara was focused on Alex’s plane. The engine sounded hit-and-miss, like it was cutting out. She worried that it was even safe to fly. Looking around, no one else seemed concerned.

  “Miss Eastman, Alex assures me that there is little need to fear.” Sir Piers came to stand beside her and watch his cousin take off. “The sound of the Sopwith Camel is unique, and one that the Germans dreaded hearing. No, his aeroplane is fine. Earlier, he was more concerned with the humidity, the dew point temperature, and the possibility of carburetor icing.”

  She didn’t know anything about carburetor icing, but if Alex was worried about it, it must be dangerous. She kept her gaze on Alex’s plane, watching it get smaller and smaller, until it was a dot, then a speck, then gone.

  Lara waited until he was out of sight to speak. “Sir Piers, I want to thank you for last night…for everything. Seeing Jannet and Aubrey again. The food. The wine. The kinbaku demonstration. It was fascinating to watch. It makes me wish now that I’d done the whole vetting thing.”