Burned Deep (Burned 1)

I didn’t bother informing my father of the venue change. I figured I’d surprise him, since we had to drive in the same direction as if we were playing Trilogy. I picked him up and we headed out of Sedona, then south on I-17. I tried to ignore the reminder of being on this highway just last night, with Dane doing orgasmic things to me—and having his cock in my mouth.

Making a man like him come was equivalent to locating the Holy Grail. I still couldn’t believe I’d gotten him so hot and bothered. Had then gotten him off.

And what he’d done to me afterward, in my townhome …

My stomach flipped. Though now was hardly the time to think about all that. Instead, I engaged my dad in idle chitchat. When we reached the exit for Loop 303, I peeled off the highway and headed west. The temperature in the Valley had dipped with the nearly endless rainfall and it was a virtually unheard-of seventy-five degrees, according to the digital readout on my rearview mirror. A half dozen hot-air balloons rose above the desert landscape, with low mountains in the background.

The sun was cloaked by a gray sky but the chance of precipitation was low. It looked like the breeze was minimal, since none of the brush or wildflowers blew in the wind. All in all, a great early-autumn day to hit the links. A nice change of pace from golfing when it was a hundred and fifteen out and my dad itched to play one of the Valley courses.

I took the exit for Lone Mountain and we entered the back portion of the master-planned community of Vistancia. But rather than take the parkway to Sunset Drive, I slowed at the cobblestone entrance of the country club and turned in.

My dad spared a glance my way.

“Wishful thinking?”

I laughed. “Change in plans.”

“This is a private development, Ari.”

“Yeah, I know.” I pulled under the porte cochere and waited for the security guard to approach the driver’s side. Sliding down the window, I said, “Hi. Ari DeMille. We’re guests of Dane Bax.”

“Of course. Welcome to Blackstone, Ms. DeMille. Mr. Bax and Mr. Evans are already here, at the country club. Do you know where you’re going?”

“Not exactly.”

“Follow this road until you reach a stone bridge. There’s a sign and the club is on the left.”

“Thanks.” I waited for the double wooden gates to open. Then we passed through.

Every minute that ticked by was filled with both excitement over seeing Dane and dread that I’d have to introduce him to my father.

I eyed my father a moment. He looked a bit perplexed and befuddled. He’d go through the roof if he found out about me and Dane. I was sure of it. My dad had always been protective. So much so that he’d gone toe-to-toe with my mother and the high-priced lawyer she’d secured—at my dad’s expense, since Kathryn DeMille had never worked a day in her life. My mother had wanted full custody. Not because she adored me so much that she didn’t want us separated. That had never been the case.

What she’d wanted was a bargaining chip. I’d been it. She’d told him she’d give up all parental rights … for a price. That price had drained his savings account and wiped out every single one of his investments. He’d had to give her the house, too. On top of that was alimony, since she was pretty much unemployable with zero experience and no career aspirations above being a professional bitch.

Yes, I could say that about my mother. I’d lived with her long enough to formulate the educated opinion. The very reason I’d been ignoring the sudden texting she’d tried to engage me in.

“So, what are we doing here?” my dad asked.

I pulled into the drive and slowed, taking in all of the self-parking and the valet ahead of us.

“Seriously?” I said, skirting his question. “The parking lot is like feet away from the entrance and people actually valet park?”

“Comes with the membership at places like this.”

“Jesus.” Sure, I grasped the concept of privileged. My dad had been a mover and a shaker in his heyday. We’d had country club memberships when I was a kid. Still … We could manage to walk a short distance from the car to the club.

I bypassed the valet and easily found a spot. I shut off the engine and we collected our bags from the back.

Now I had some explaining to do. “Mr. Bax booked our game,” I said, hoping like hell to keep the I am completely enthralled and desperately hot for my boss—and oh, yeah, I’m sleeping with him! from my tone. “He and one of his associates will be joining us.”

My dad gave me a you’re shitting me look. “Why are we golfing with your boss?”

“He wanted to meet you, of course.” I shrugged. “You are sort of famous, Dad. A consistent contender for the championship. Anyone who golfs knows who you are and Dane—Mr. Bax—is probably curious to get your take on his courses. It’s only logical that he’d want to meet you here so that you can gauge the tracks of a Jim Engh–designed course.”

There. That sounded reasonable. Right?

Unfortunately, my dad didn’t look wholly convinced. But I could tell the prospect of a morning on Blackstone fairways was too tempting to pass up. The devil likely would have known that. He seemed to be one step ahead of me.