by Nana Malone
A flush crept up her chest and he grinned. She was happy to see him too. “I uh, have a class.”
“No you don’t,” the brunette said helpfully.
Cara glared at the woman. "No. I'm pretty sure I do. Look again."
The brunette just shook her head and grinned. “Unless you want to show this sexy piece of man the ropes."
Cara flushed and Tate had to laugh. "See, there is no escaping me, so you might as well enjoy it."
"And if you don’t, I will," said her friend. “Guy or not. I'll try anything once.”
"Oh, I’m next in line."
He turned to see who else was making an offer for his manhood and it was an older woman, maybe around sixty. He couldn't help it. His mouth dropped open.
"Don’t look so shocked. I have needs too, and Cara has been teaching me to find my inner sex goddess."
Her inner—Tate grinned. "That must be a sight."
The older woman nodded as she tugged on her cover up. Tate reached to help her and she beamed at him. "I think I recognize you, and not just from my fantasies.”
Cara coughed. "Mrs. Longvine. This is my uh, friend, Tate."
Mrs. Longvine grinned. "Tate Anders, right?"
He nodded. "Yes. How did you—"
"You look a lot like your father. My husband, rest his soul, and I have been doing business with Anders Financial for years. I recognize your picture."
He couldn’t possibly remember all of Anders clients but if she was close enough to see a photo of him that meant she had been in his father's office before. "I'm so sorry for not recognizing you, Mrs. Longvine. What account do you have with us?"
She smiled warmly. "Well since my Harry is gone, I’m in the process of turning the reins over to our son. I met with your father last week. LMV Foods."
Holy hell. He'd been talking to the owner of LMV foods who had also consequently been taking a dance class from Cara. LMV was one of the clients that his father still handled personally. "Ma'am. It's a pleasure."
She waved him off. "Oh don’t go getting all formal with me now. You know I like to take stripper classes. I'll go ahead and consider us family now. Matter of fact, next time I come in, I'll come find you and say hello.”
He grinned. "I'd like that."
"Pretty face like that, these days an old lady needs to get her thrills where she can." Tate could only laugh as he watched her walk out.
Cara was packing her bag. "Look, Tate, I’m sorry you came at such a busy time, but I have a private class I need to get to and I'm late as it is."
"Nice try, Cara. You're not getting rid of me. But if you want to teach so badly, then teach me."
"Excuse me? You want to take a cardio strip class?"
He shrugged. “Why not? It'll be fun. You can show me all the best moves."
She looked like she was on the verge of refusing again but then she eyed him. "You're not just going to go away, are you?"
He shook his head. "Nope. I want to talk to you, to see you. And if this is how it has to happen, then so be it.”
He was serious? Cara had a hard time believing that he actually wanted to learn how to ride around the pole. He met the challenge in her eyes with a wide grin. “Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?”
“I'm sure I can handle whatever you dish out. Come on. Show me what to do.”
She could barely be around him without her inside melting. And he wanted her to turn on sexy music and show him how to touch himself? Just the idea had her face flushing. “That might not be the best idea, Tate.”
He folded his arms and nodded. “Okay, I get you. You're afraid to show a true connoisseur of the female form what you do. I promise. I'll take it easy on you.”
She bit back a laugh. Okay, if he wanted to see what she could do to him, then fair enough. “Fine. But I won't tolerate any screaming for your mother.”
“You know that's big talk from such a little person.”
She jutted out her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Time to put up or shut up. You coming, Anders?”
Tiffany patted Tate’s hand on top of the reception desk. “I suggest you try and stretch before she starts. Otherwise it's going to be your funeral.”
With a cocky smirk, he shook his head. “I can handle anything Cara feels like dishing out.”
The butterflies fluttered low. This was fun. She was having fun with him. That kiss last night, that hadn't been a fluke. That promise from when they'd met, the connection, all real. That hadn't just been one of those things. She liked him. Never mind that little pesky detail that she'd rather be locked in a cage with a lion than see his twin again.
He followed her into the studio, and she went straight for the stereo to turn on the Magic Mike soundtrack. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Bring it on, Cara.”
She should have taken it easy on him. After all, he was a first timer. But he was also being a pain. A sweet pain, who just wanted to see you. She shoved that thought aside.
Even if he did want to see her, this couldn't happen for so many reasons.
The music turned on as she swayed in front of him at the center pole. He took position at the pole next to her after taking off his shoes. She hesitated when their gazes met but then she started the class like she always did.
She talked him through, how to touch, how to have fun with it, how to find his inner diva. She made the moves a little more masculine to suit him, but she didn't change any of the pole maneuvers.
Within ten minutes, he had started to sweat. The one time she asked him if he wanted to stop, he shook his head. “Nope. Don't stop. I just need to get more comfortable. I didn't come prepared to dance.” He took off his shirt, leaving him in just a tight white T-shirt that showed off his muscular chest and fine arms. Cara bit her bottom lip and tried not to stare.
He and Donovan might've been identical twins but their builds were different. Donovan was bulkier where Tate was lean and ripped. As he moved, his T-shirt inched up, showing flat, firm abdominal muscles.
Still think you're not interested? She got her attention back to the mirror and found him watching her. He’d caught her checking him out. Damn. He smirked, showing one dimple.
More resolute, she focused on finishing the lesson. To her surprise, he actually handled most of it pretty well. He was clearly exerting himself, but that was Tate. He didn’t do anything half-assed.
When she was done, he stared at her. “You do this, everyday?”
She laughed. “At least three times a day.”
He nodded as he leaned against one of the poles. “Right. And you're dancing the whole time?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I have to show people what to do.”
“I have a whole new respect for strippers,” he groaned.
“Exotic entertainers,” she corrected.
“Right. That requires a certain amount of strength that I never thought about before.” He bent down to pick up his shirt and she frowned at him.
“What are you doing?”
“I figured we could get out of here, and maybe I can convince you to let me take you to dinner again. See if I can test out that kiss. I want to make sure it wasn't a fluke.”
“We're not done.” His eyes went wide and she had to stifle a laugh. “There’s still the performance piece.”
“You want me to perform?” His mouth hung open.
She grinned. “Unless you’re too scared.”
His brows raised and his stormy grey eyes went flinty. He couldn’t resist a challenge any more than she could. “Turn on the music.”
Cara had to laugh. That determined look on his face was one for the record books. “Relax. I’ll go first so you can see how everything works together.”
Tate licked his lips, his gaze going heated. “You’re going to dance for me?”
“Not for you. Just sit down, watch and learn.” She turned on Elle King and took her position. This was faster than what she showed to him, but she wanted to
show off a little. So what? She was a woman. She wanted to be desired.
She closed her eyes and waited for her cue. At the first count, she opened them, made eye contact and started. In slow movements, as Elle King sang about her ex’s and oh’s, she took her time, loving the pole. Making her tricks sensual. Walking over to his chair. She teased him. Watch yourself. But she didn’t care. She was having fun. She whipped her hair in his lap and he reached out for her, but she danced just out of reach.
When she slid into a split, Tate opened his lips when she turned her back to him and worked her ass in his crotch. She could feel every shuddering breath. His hands twitched and she smiled. Just when she thought he was going to lose control, she danced away and retook her position at the pole, moving her body in time with the slower song that had come on.
The tricks were easier when she slowed them down. All the while, Tate watched her with a hooded gaze. And she pretended that he was hers, that she was dancing for him. When the music faded, she opened her eyes and he watched her closely.
“That was …” His voice trailed.
She swallowed hard and motioned for him to get up. She took his position in the audition chair. “Your turn.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s exactly what we just did in class.”
Cara grinned. “No. I was just showing off.”
“I’m not mad at that. Prepare to be stunned. Magic Mike has got nothing on me.”
Cara giggled. She’d given him the Jacques song to work with his routine and she placed herself directly in his path.
When the music started, Tate tugged off his shirt and she knew she was in trouble. All she could see were his ripped abs.
He didn’t have her skill or practice, but the man committed. She’d expected talking, flirtation and no character, but he didn’t waver. He danced for her. Never dropping the fantasy. When he came over to her chair, Cara was drooling. He must have seen some male strip shows or something, because he knew exactly what to do. He took her hand and ran it down from chest to belt.
Holy shit. Breathe, breathe. Fucking breathe. Dear lord, she’d created a monster. And now she’d be handing him her wet panties if he had anything to say about it.
Tate even managed a trick or two. Those were done more tongue in cheek though. When he strolled back over to her, he grinned. “I’m waiting for you to eat your words, Cara. Go on. Tell me I’m good.”
She let out a giggle. “You’re okay.”
He threw his hands up in a touch down motion. “I’ll take it. That means you have to go to dinner with me.”
“Fine.”
He leaned over and she held her breath. But instead of pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her nose. “You won't regret it.”
7
Tate couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a date. An honest to God date that didn't involve any business talk. Three months, six? He’d buried himself in work and rarely looked up. And truth be told he just hadn’t been that interested.
But now, with Cara’s slender hand in his as they strolled the sidewalks of Adam's Morgan, he didn't want to let her go.
There is no way this shit can work. Donovan will spin out. But he shoved that thought aside. For once in his life something wasn't about his brother and he liked it. This was about how he felt around Cara. She made him laugh and made him feel freer. He liked the feeling. He didn’t want to go back to his usual self. Hell, who else could make him do a striptease for her?
As they turned onto her street, he pulled out the one question he’d been dying to ask since seeing her again. “Did you know that night? At the birthday party?”
She went stiff and silent in his arms for a moment. “You mean that it was you I’d met at first? And not Donovan?”
“Yeah.”
Cara nodded. “As soon as I met you, I knew. He’d been so different. And forgetful. But I went with it. I think I was trying to capture that feeling I’d had those first few days. I didn't know why everything with him was so off until I saw you at the party. But then you were with someone else.”
“I wish I had a do over for that whole time. I wouldn’t have lied about my name. As usual, I was covering for Donovan. Dad had threatened to cut him off, so there I was, being the good brother. Doing exactly what Donovan wanted of me. I would have told you who I was right away. I would have broken up with Anita when I should have instead of dragging it out to my birthday. So many things I would have done differently.”
Cara nodded. “He seemed so excited for us to meet. He kept talking about how I was going to love his brother. He neglected to mention you were twins.”
Tate ran a hand down his face. “I feel like I should apologize. You got caught up in our life long competition. I’d made the mistake of mentioning that the volunteer gig wasn’t so bad. That there were interesting people. I should never have said anything. Then he wouldn’t have been curious enough to go himself. I kicked myself after that night.”
“I guess it didn’t matter anyway.” She shrugged. “You had a girlfriend.”
“She wasn’t my girlfriend. She was my ex. Donavan invited her. He was going for maximum impact and he got it.”
Her delicate brows drew down over her dark eyes. “That’s really manipulative. Why did he care so much? I mean it’s not like he even acted like he cared about me.”
“It wasn’t about you. It was about one-upping me. Ever since we were kids, he has been like that. He’s convinced that I had more of my mother’s love. More of my father’s attention. Girls have always been a competition. You weren’t the first woman he’s used to pick at me. You were just the first one who actually mattered.”
She licked her bottom lip and his gaze honed in on her full lips. “But why? You’d known me two days.”
What did he tell her? How about the truth? “Before Mom died she asked me to look out for him. To be a good big brother. But when she died, I sort of shut myself off. It should have brought Donovan and I closer, but it didn’t. I’ve been floating adrift for ages. I didn't feel adrift when I met you. He wanted to take that away.”
She blinked up at him. “And you still want to do this?” She held up their joined hands. “You’ve already aggravated that relationship after the Gala. It’s complicated.”
She had a point, but he’d wanted her for so long. “You let me worry about that. I always wondered what would have happened if I’d been the one who brought you home for my birthday.”
They paused in front of her wrought iron gate. “Home sweet home,” she whispered.
Tate glanced up at her place. For so many reasons, this was a bad idea. She was a dancer. She was Donovan's ex. His brother was obsessed with her. But he’d stepped aside when he shouldn’t have. He wasn't letting her slip though his fingers again.
Tate ran a thumb over her cheek. “I want a chance, a real one. Just us. Because I think about you. A lot. If I’m honest, I think about you more than I should. And now that I’ve seen you again, I’m not walking away that easily.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “Tate, this is going to get—”
He didn’t want her to talk herself out of it. He’d deal with Donovan one way or another. Right now all he wanted was her. He kissed her, licking into her mouth. All he wanted to do was block out all doubt, all reason. He’d missed his chance with her once and he didn't want to miss it again. As his tongue slid over hers, Cara moaned and slid her arms around his neck, pressing her body into his.
Cara shouldn’t want him. But good luck telling her body that. Good luck pretending that she didn't need this. Need him. She’d been following the rules for so long. Today, she wanted to break them. She tugged him toward the door and he growled low before releasing her lips.
“Cara. If I come up, I’m going to get carried away. And—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “For once, I want to get carried away.”
His grin flashed. “Yeah, but I have no intention of you respecting me in the morning.”
�
��So you plan to stay until the morning, do you?”
His kiss was a brief hint of a whisper over her lips. “You better believe it. Shoot, you’ve already seen my dance moves. If you’re good, there’s a stripper body roll in it for you.”
Cara let out a giggle as she and Tate stepped into her house. She felt around for the light switch, and turned the lights on. The diffused light illuminated their way, highlighting every single one of Tate’s handsome features as they kissed their way through to the living room.
Her skin tingled everywhere he touched her. With his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth, heat pulsed and throbbed between her thighs. She needed more contact. Needed more friction. Just needed more.
Tate picked her up easily and she squealed as he palmed her ass with both hands. “Let me guess: You’re Tarzan,” she laughed.
Tate grinned. “You Jane,” he whispered before nuzzling her throat. His nose glided over the skin of her neck. “You're lucky I didn't carry you over my shoulder.”
“I didn’t realize you keep in touch with your Neanderthal side,” Cara said as her breath tore out of her chest in ragged gasps.
He kissed the hollow behind her ear and walked them back toward the wall. “Oh, you don’t know the Neanderthal in me, sweetheart.” He scraped his teeth over her ear and she shivered. Tate caged her against the wall, their faces a mere inch away from each other.
“Tate.” His name was a whisper on her lips.
“You have been haunting my dreams, Cara North.” His voice was low and hoarse.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Cara whispered.
Tate shut her up with a bone-melting kiss, his hips bracketing her up against the wall while he worked magic on her brain cells with that slow slide of his tongue. Cara dug her hands into his T-shirt and pressed her body against him, rolling her hips into his. Desperate to get closer. Desperate to relieve the clawing ache between her legs.
“Tate,” Cara breathed, as she arched her back, “I want you.”
When he pulled back, his eyes were stormy, intense. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
