The Original Sinners: The Red Years. Tiffany Reisz

Zach asked.

      Nora could hear the fear still hiding under the excitement in his voice.

      She met his eyes and without smiling answered him.

      “Hell.”

      17

      Zach entered Nora’s office and switched on her desk lamp. From what Wesley said just before he left, it sounded as if Nora would be a while getting ready. Might as well pass the time with a book. Considering Nora’s tastes he had no doubt he could find something to distract him from the screaming voice in his head telling him he really didn’t want to do this.

      The lamplight spread its warm yellow glow over Nora’s desk. Wesley must have tidied up. Her usual disarray had been transformed into well-ordered chaos, if there was such a thing. He picked up a small box she’d labeled Scribbles and Bits. He opened it and found dozens of quotations from various sources on multicolored note cards.

      One card read in Nora’s slanting script, “No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown. — William Penn.” That did sound like something Nora would commit to memory. Another quote came from the Roman playwright Platus: “I do believe it was Love which devised the torturer’s profession here on earth.” Appropriate. A pink card read, “The man who has never been flogged has never been taught.—Menander of Athens.”

      The last card simply said, “The Lady or the Tiger?” over and over and over again.

      Zach put the cards away and closed the box. He saw her day planner tucked next to her keyboard. He knew he was being unconscionably nosy, but his curiosity got the better of him. Seemed to be today’s theme.

      He flipped the red leather-bound calendar open. She and Lex apparently had rescheduled her book-signing for a month from Saturday. She’d dragged Wesley to the opera a few weeks ago. She and G.F. had been in Miami in January. He flipped to the week before he and Nora had met. On that Monday she’d written, “T.R.—M.D. 8:00 p.m.” Another notation later that week read, “S.S.—W.A., 9:00 p.m.” But the next day had another M.D. appointment at 5:00 p.m. He glanced through all the previous pages. Anywhere from two to four times a week, Nora had some sort of M.D. appointment. But as soon as they’d started working on her book the M.D. appointments had dropped off almost completely. What sort of doctor saw a patient on evenings and weekends? Why had Nora stopped going to her appointments when they started working together?

      With shaking hands, Zach closed the calendar and stepped to her bookshelves. Lovely, he thought, smirking at the books on the top shelf—sex manuals. He skimmed the titles: The Joy of Sex, The Kama Sutra, The Guide to Anal Sex for Women. The last title he read twice. The second shelf did hold some surprises, however—psychology and sociology texts, weighty cerebral tomes on the psychology of power and pain. On the third shelf down sat children’s books, their covers worn from multiple readings—the Harry Potter books in British first editions, Alice in Wonderland, Through the Looking Glass, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, The Chronicles of Narnia. But one book appeared more loved than the rest. Its thin red spine was worn and frayed. Zach slipped it off the shelf—The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. Some clever illustrator had taken the text of Carroll’s poem and reimagined it as a story all its own. Zach leafed through the lurid, lush illustrations, the pages grown soft and porous from so many readings. On a hunch he turned back to the front end-pages and found an inscription. In handwriting both masculine and elegant it read, “My Little One, Never forget the lesson of the Jabberwocky. And never forget that I love you.” It was signed only “S” with a fierce diagonal slash through it; the mark of the mysterious Søren. He closed the book and slipped it back on the shelf.

      Turning back to Nora’s desk, he noticed again that long black duffel bag he’d accidentally kicked the first time he sat in this office. He stuck out his foot and toed the bag, hearing again the chiming sound of metal against metal.

      “Open it, Zach.”

      Nora entered the office grinning at him, but Zach was too stunned to smile back. He only stared as she moved even closer, the heels of her boots clicked hollowly on the hardwood floor as her ankle-length leather skirt quietly creaked with each soft sway of her hips. The pale flesh of her thigh peeked out from the hip-high slit in her skirt over a black lace-trimmed stocking. She wore a black corset laced over a flesh-toned bustier. And with her neck bare, her hair artfully arranged over her shoulder, the effect was utterly obscene.

      “Gotta love a woman in uniform,” she said, and Zach caught a whiff of her perfume—subtle and seductive. It made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

      “You will hear no complaints from me.”

      “Thank you, Zachary. Give me a hand, will you? I can’t get them tight enough on my own.”

      Nora held out her arms, completely bare but for a pair of black fingerless leather gloves that covered her forearms. She turned her arms over, and Zach saw the gloves hooked over her thumbs and laced up her arms like a corset.

      “What are these?” He took Nora’s wrist in his hand and methodically pulled the laces tight.

      “They’re called gauntlets. Kind of a feminized medieval warrior look.”

      “Thought you only wore red when you went out.” Zach laced her other gauntlet.

      “Don’t believe everything you hear about me—just the bad stuff. You’re pretty good at this. You’ve laced a corset before. You like lingerie?”

      “I’ve never been known to object to it. Must be frustrating to have clothing you need help putting on.”

      “This is usually Wes’s job. He’s the one who finds it frustrating.”

      “His job? And to think I tended bar for cash while I was at university. This is a far cry from punching out drunken football hooligans.”

      “A lover and a fighter? You need to give Wes some lessons on how to properly enjoy his college experience.”

      “Where is Wesley anyway? He seemed to leave in a hurry.”

      “Oh—” Nora waved her hand “—off pouting somewhere.”

      “Pouting? Might I ask why?”

      “Wes doesn’t want me, but he doesn’t like it if I want someone else. Kid’s gotta learn that he can’t have his cake and not eat me, too.”

      Zach laughed.

      “He’s also pissed,” Nora said, moving even closer to him, “because he knows what I’m doing tonight.”

      “And that is?”

      “Seducing you.”

      Zach took a step back.

      “Nora, I haven’t changed my mind. We can’t work together and be lovers, too. J.P. will kill me to start with. And if he doesn’t I might kill myself.”

      Nora raised her eyebrow at him, crossed her arms and leaned against his side.

      “So are you just window-shopping tonight?”

      Zach crossed his arms to match her and gave her a smile.

      “Perhaps I’m just hoping you’ll be inspired to finish the book before I leave.”

      “Is that a challenge?”

      “How about this…” Zach began and couldn’t believe what he was proposing. “I’ll give you your homework. You get it done in a timely manner by day and—”

      “And by night we play?” Nora’s eyes were shining. “This is a fun game, Zach. I could win this one.”

      “And…” Zach turned to face her. “If you do manage to complete the book a few days ahead of schedule then technically we’ll no longer be working together. Perhaps then we can discuss