Please Daddy(2)

By: Maggie Ryan



“No, I worked through lunch in order to clear the rest of my workload,” Colette said as she fought to keep from shivering and it wasn’t all due to the unexpected blasts of cold air that continued to whip around them or the fat white flakes that fell. Part of her shudder was directly a result of the fact that Paul’s words had her remembering Dalton calling from the study to take her coat. Having already grabbed her briefcase and with one foot out the door, she’d pretended not to hear. Once the elevator deposited her on the ground floor, she’d also ignored the doorman’s suggestion she return for a coat.

“I just run to the car and then my office,” she’d said, giving him a smile and a little wave as she breezed through the door he held for her.

Climbing into the waiting car, she’d rolled her eyes when hearing, “Miss Colette, you should be wearing a coat. I’ll wait while you run back upstairs,” Harrison, their driver admonished.

“No need and besides, I’m late,” Colette said, ignoring his disapproving look as she pulled a file from her briefcase. Now she wished she’d listened to one of the three men…most especially her husband. The feel of a cold blast of wind lifting her skirt had her attention coming back to the present as she fought to keep the pleated fabric from flying higher and exposing what else Paul would most likely be shocked to see.

“Here, take my coat,” Paul offered, already in the process of shrugging out of his overcoat.

“No, but thank you,” Colette said, one hand holding her skirt down, the other crossed across her torso for warmth.

“Well, at least step back inside. It wouldn’t do for you to become ill—not at the start of your vacation.”

“The car should be here any minute—”

“I insist,” Paul said, taking her arm and moving her back towards the door they’d just come through. “What would your husband think if I allowed you to freeze to death? I’ll wait until the car arrives.”

Colette didn’t have much choice as he opened the door and practically gave her a little push to assure her feet moved. She had to admit, the air in the cavernous lobby was far warmer than that outside the thick panes of glass that ran floor to ceiling across the front of the building. Besides, Paul was right. It would be just awful to catch a cold before the first official day of her holiday dawned.

It wasn’t but a few minutes before she saw a black sedan pull up to the curb. Her heart quickened as she saw the back door of the car opening without benefit of Harrison stepping from the vehicle. It could only mean one thing—she wouldn’t be riding home alone. She watched as her husband unfolded his large frame from the depths of the car and began to climb the marble steps. Her shudder was accompanied by an automatic covering of her bottom before she yanked her hands free, remembering where she was. Glad that the security guard seated behind the circular desk was turned away, she pushed against the heavy glass door which refused to budge. The wind whipping Paul’s coat was evidently strong enough to keep the lobby door closed. She was about to try again when she caught sight of her husband’s face as he reached the top of the stairs to meet Paul. Unable to hear their conversation didn’t keep her from understanding that Dalton wasn’t the least bit surprised to learn that his wife was tucked inside the building because she wasn’t dressed properly for the inclement weather. When he looked up, their eyes meeting through the glass, she felt the skin of her bottom began to crawl and she had to fight against the urge to clasp her nates again, witnesses be damned.

Great! What a way to start your vacation, you idiot! Putting on a brave face, she gave Dalton a little wave and a huge smile, glad to see his expression soften. Paul pulled the door open with a grin and a chuckle.

“Wherever you’re taking your wife, I hope it’s warm,” he said to Dalton as she stepped outside. “Little thing doesn’t have enough body fat to keep warm.”

“Don’t worry, I promise Colette will feel quite toasty soon,” Dalton said, moving towards her.

His words might have sounded promising yet Colette doubted her husband was talking either about the destination of their upcoming vacation or the coat—the one she should be wearing—he had removed from where it had been draped over his arm and was holding open. Tamping down her urge to begin a banal excuse, she turned her back to him, slipping her arms into the sleeves. Instantly feeling much warmer, she thanked him.

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