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it. However, going anywhere with Logan that involved restraints and whips screamed bad idea . The last time she’d been to a club, she’d been with her sister, not a charismatic male sexual Dominant.
    “I don’t know.” She glanced back at Troy, considering all the things that “training” might mean. “I’m not into hurting anyone.”
    He looked down at her hand, the one he’d pricked. “Pain and pleasure are often interchangeable. Regardless, every step is consensual. He lets go of as much control as he desires. Under the right conditions, the more control is relinquished, the more freedom is found. You’re welcome to simply watch, Madison. Friday at eight.”
    “We’ll see. I have a lot to do, and if I’m tired that evening . . .”
    Those coffee-colored eyes came back to her face. He wasn’t staring. Staring would have been less unsettling. She felt like a book he was reading, every word a page full of information about her. He let her run down before he spoke again, courteously. “Understood. If you do come that night, use the interior door between our storerooms. It’s always unlocked.”
    “You do the training here?” She tried not to let her voice squeak. Right close by, where she could hear the slap of a flogger on flesh, cries of pain and pleasure . . .
    “I have a couple rooms in the back, one for the training, one for the woodworking.”
    He might have equipment in there. Cuffs, chains . . . like the things in her store inventory, only these would be worn from use, scratches in the wood of the St. Andrew’s Cross, rendered silky smooth by sweat . . .
    “I’ll be adding those hinges tonight if you want to come see the woodworking part of things,” he added. “I know it must be hard, hanging around Alice’s house at night.”
    That was going to be the danger, wasn’t it? He had more than one road past her shields, and his understanding of the loss she was dealing with could be a four-lane highway. Under ordinary circumstances, she’d be restrained by common sense. Going into a backroom after business hours with a guy she didn’t even know wasn’t a good idea. However, thanks to Alice’s note, Madison’s uppermost fear was that he was her own personal Pied Piper of Hamelin, the tune he was offering one she longed to follow.
    “Okay. I’ll think about it.” As if she was considering an offer to come over for tea. Jesus. “Thanks. It was . . . nice to meet you. I’d better get back to the store.”
    She would have fled if it she could have, but she maintained her dignity with a decorous pace. As a result, she had time for a few thousand thoughts before she reached the doorway. She stopped, bit her lip. “Logan . . . when you said, ‘At last we meet,’ it felt significant. What did my sister say about me?”
    “She gave you to me.”
    Her face must have conveyed her startled jolt, because his lips twisted in wry response. He lifted a hand, staying her what the fuck reaction.
    “She said . . .” He paused, his expression serious. “‘I’m giving her to you, Logan, but you might just give yourself to her, too. For the first time in your life.’ What man could resist a challenge like that?”
    “Was she on a lot of meds when you had that conversation?” Madison asked weakly.
    His laugh, deep and rich, literally aroused her. Her body tightened, the flesh between her legs swelling. When her hand curled into a tense ball at her side, the humor disappeared from his expression, his mouth firming. “Go back to your store, Madison,” he said softly. “We’ll talk later.”
    She turned and went.
    * * *
    Not because he told her to do so, but because she had obviously stepped into the deep-ass end of the pool. Her sister had been capable of some odd things, but this? She fricking gave me to a guy? What the hell did that mean? Under other circumstances, Madison would have considered a restraining order. It still wasn’t out of the question.
    Okay, slow down