by Tawny Taylor
“Would you like to?”
Are you offering what I think you are? “Maybe.” She felt the chill of wetness puddle in her panties.
He pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her. “Call me tomorrow.”
Chapter One
Britt Olson knew what her fiery best friend’s first words would be the minute she was welcomed inside but she opened the front door anyway. There was no getting around it. She’d have to deal with Mary’s disappointment—at least until the package they were both anxious to open was located.
Damn postal system. Even armed with full online package tracking capabilities, Britt hadn’t been able to figure out what had happened to her gift, lovingly chosen, paid for, and shipped by her mother. Of course, the fact that Britt hadn’t bothered to do more than turn on her birthday gift to herself—a new desktop with all the latest bells and whistles—and play a couple of games of Spider Solitaire, probably didn’t help any.
But that game was addicting! A lot more fun than trying to figure out IP addresses and work through tedious connection wizards.
“So, where is it?” Mary asked, her freckled face and pale blue eyes full of expectation. “I came prepared.” She stepped inside and dropped a large duffel bag on the floor. It landed with a respectably loud thud.
“Sheesh! What’s in there? And what are you preparing for?” Curious, Britt glanced at the worn, blue bag before returning to the kitchen to get their drinks.
Mary followed her. “Oh, you’ll see. I have a little bit of everything in it. I didn’t want to get caught unprepared. So where’s your package? I’m dying to see.”
“How about you give me a hint first?” Britt struggled with the corkscrew, silently reminding herself of a recent vow to purchase a better one. “I think it was rotten of my mother to tell you what she bought—”
“You want some help?” Mary reached for the bottle.
“No. I’m fine. I’ll get it.” Britt gritted her teeth and continued pulling on the stubborn cork. “The hint, please.”
“I think your mom wanted to make sure you didn’t have it already.”
“It? What it?”
Britt bit her lip as Mary gave her an I’m-not-telling-smile and shrugged. Prying information out of her best friend was no easier than pulling the cork out of the bottle she held between her knees.
“This isn’t fair. You’re more excited than I’ve ever seen you. More excited than the night before you moved into your new house, more excited than the day before you started that nifty new job of yours. Come on! Just one teeny, tiny hint.”
“Nope. I’m not talking. Now, where is it? You promised not to open it ‘til I got here. So quit with the theatrics.”
“Fine. I see how you are. Just wait ‘til your birthday.” The cork finally slid free of the bottle and Britt smiled in triumph. “As far as where the box is… Well, um…” She poured Mary a glass of wine and handed it to her. “I’m not sure.”
Mary didn’t bother to hide her disappointment as she glanced at her watch. “It’s after seven. You should have gotten it by now. Your mother always has your presents delivered on your birthday. She promised me—”
A resounding knock startled both women, and they simultaneously looked at the front door.
“Are you expecting anyone tonight?” Mary asked.
“Nope.”
A second loud knock sent them both scurrying toward the door. Britt peered through the peephole.
It couldn’t be. Why would he be here? She blinked then looked again. “It’s the guy who bought my house. Andre. Should I open the door? What if he’s mad about the bathtub faucet? Or the crappy back door that barely closed. Or the—”
“You sold that dump ‘As Is’. You gave him a full disclosure. He has no right to come over here angry. Does he look mad?”
Britt studied his features—slightly contorted by the peephole’s curved lens, but still stunningly handsome—for a few seconds. She’d never gotten this close to Andre Manuel Cruz-Romero, better known as Andre Romero, before. Funny the things a person learned about a total stranger during the lengthy process of closing on real estate. She knew practically everything about him but his measurements.
And there were a few of those that she wouldn’t mind knowing—specifically the length and girth of one part. She hadn’t been able to ignore the sizeable lump in his trousers during the closing meeting.
The slightly magnified effect of the lens gave her a great opportunity to see the olive-skinned hunk up close—well, at least his face. There were the most amazing gold streaks in his deep brown eyes. A sexy mole sat high on one cheek. Dark stubble lined his jaw and covered his chin. And his curly hair frolicked over the top of his head in a flirty wave flopping over one eye. “No, he doesn’t look mad. Just a bit impatient.” She turned the deadbolt and opened the door. “Hi, Andre. What a surprise.”
Perfect, white teeth flashed brightly against his warm, brown skin. “Hi. You had a package delivered to the house today. I thought it might be important. I hope you don’t mind but I signed for it.” He thrust a decent-sized cardboard box toward her.
“Oh! Thanks! I don’t mind at all. My mother must have forgotten.” She glanced at the label then up into his eyes. “That was very sweet.” My God, he’s handsome. Look at that mouth! I bet he’s an amazing kisser. She held in a sigh and tried to remember what she’d been saying.
Too late. It was gone.
“It’s a birthday gift,” Mary said, clearly trying to cover for Britt’s major brain fart.
“Really?” he said, those perfect lips pulling into another perfect smile that held just a hint of danger. He leaned closer, and for some reason, Britt felt sure he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes and held her breath. “Happy birthday, Britt,” he whispered.
Nothing touched her lips but a soft puff of air. Damn! No birthday kiss?
Feeling really stupid, she opened her eyes. What had made her think he’d kiss her? While they knew a lot about each other, thanks to the load of paperwork they’d signed a week ago, they were still virtual strangers. After all, it had been a property closing, not a date that had brought them together for a couple of hours.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Mary offered, giving Britt a nudge.
Coming to, Britt motioned him inside and stammered, “Yes, please. You’re welcome to come in. It’s a little chilly outside.” You’re welcome to do more than that, but sharing a glass of wine’s a nice start.
“Okay, but just one.” He stepped inside and took a visual tour of her living room. “Nice place.” To his credit, he didn’t compare it to the shack she’d sold him.
Still, she had an irresistible urge to explain why she’d sold him a house that was in such rough shape. “Thanks. This place is more my speed. I tried to fix the old place up, but it was too much for me. It belonged to my grandparents, and I loved the old farmhouse, but I’m just not capable—”
He lifted a fingertip and pressed it to her lips. “No need to explain. The house is old and it needs a lot of work. I’d never expect anyone—even a woman who seems as capable as you—to be able to tackle it on her own.”
Stunned into silence by the innocent, yet provocative, touch to her mouth, she stared into his eyes and forced herself to resist the urge to tease his finger with her tongue then pull it into her mouth and suck.
His very sexy and dangerous expression made her tingle all over. She felt her panties getting wet.
Only when he pulled his finger away was she able to speak. “I…own a Dewalt, cordless…you know.”
He reached for her again, this time seeming to aim for her shoulder. His gaze slipped from her face.
She tensed up with expectation.
But his hand never made contact with her. Instead he smiled at someone or something behind her and said, “Thanks.” Then, pulling his arm back, and leaving her to watch the way his biceps thickened as he moved, he brought a glass of wine to his mouth and sipped. His tongue darted
out as he lowered the glass. “Mmm. Very good wine.”
“Yes.” She tried to slow her panting breaths, sure she sounded like a dog.
“So, you were saying you have a Dewalt? That’s impressive. I don’t know many women who—”
“Would you like to have a seat?” Mary interrupted, standing somewhere behind Britt.
My God, where are my manners? “Yes, please! Sit.” Feeling a bit awkward in her own skin and not completely in control of her limbs, she lunged forward to catch his free hand. Naturally, she missed and knocked into the one holding the glass of very red wine. Of course it spilled. All over his white golf shirt. “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Not thinking, merely reacting, she reached forward and dabbed at the red stain with her hands. “That was such a nice shirt, too. I’ll buy you a new one. I promise,” she rambled.
Mary tapped at her shoulder and handed her a damp rag, and Britt started to work trying to clean the large mark from the middle of his chest. The feel of defined pecs and abs were not lost to her, even through the shirt’s thick cotton, and even despite her self-conscious panic.
Andre caught her wrists and smiled, instantly stilling her frenzied motion. “It’s okay. I have plenty more shirts. This one was old. I wear it when I’m working around the house. Honest.”
“If that’s what you wear to work around your house, I’d love to see what you wear to go out to dinner,” she mumbled, not intending for him to hear.
“I’d like that, too.”
She jerked her hands away and cupped them over her mouth, rag and all. “Oh, God! I didn’t think you’d hear that.” Dropping them and wringing the rag like she wished she could wring her own neck, she stammered, “I’ve been drinking wine. I can’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth.”
He pulled on his shirt, which had begun to adhere to his chest and stomach like a second skin—which she appreciated—and smiled.
“Come to think of it, I can’t control my hands very well after a couple of glasses, either.”
“I’m not complaining.” He winked. “I don’t know many guys who would object to a beautiful woman with out-of-control hands.”
Oh my God! He’s flirting with me! She shivered as his white-hot gaze slid down her body, then slowly crept back up to her face.
“Okay, you two! You’re killing me here.” Mary sounded about as flustered as Britt felt but hid it well. She pulled Britt’s arm, practically dragging her to the couch. “If you don’t get your hands under control soon, I’ll be forced to tie them.”
When Andre’s expression turned wicked-sexy, and sure she was going to melt into a puddle, Britt forced herself to look away. A few naughty comebacks shot to her mind, but she forced herself to remain mute. It was a lot safer that way. She had a feeling Andre played in a whole different league from her—in more ways than one—and although she was more than a little intrigued, she was also a tiny bit intimidated.
Mary eased the tension by shoving the nearly forgotten cardboard box in her hands. “Here. I’m dying.”
Me too, but not for the same reason.
“Will you finally open this?”
“Gladly.” Britt fought through the packing tape and pulled a smaller box out of the plain brown one. This one was emblazoned with, among other things, the words “Private Games” across the top. “What is this?” She read the top then the sides. “Some kind of board game? Why would my mother buy me this?”
“Haven’t you heard of it? It’s all the rage. It’s a…” Mary cleared her throat. “…well, kind of a dating game. I read about it on the ‘net. Your mom and I thought it would be the perfect gift.”
“Oh, really?” Britt tried not to sound too insulted. “What do I need a dating game for? I’m doing just fine, thank you.” Utterly embarrassed, she refused to look in Andre’s direction.
“Oh, quit being such a spoilsport! I know you better than that. Let’s have a look.” Mary pulled the box out of Britt’s hands and lifted the top off. “Let’s pull a card.”
“How about we don’t?” Britt suggested, catching Mary’s suddenly busy hands. She motioned with her eyes toward Andre.
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Mary set the game on the coffee table and dropped her hands back in her lap. “It was a silly idea. I confess.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “My love life is in the pits and I wanted the game for myself.”
Britt hazarded a look at Andre, not surprised to catch him grinning with disbelief. To his credit, he kept his thoughts to himself.
He drained the rest of his glass and made a good show out of stretching and yawning. “Well, ladies, thanks for the nightcap. I think I’ll head home now and hit the hay early. Tomorrow, I’m rebuilding the front porch on the old homestead. Want to get started early, since we’re supposed to get some rain later.” He stood and smiled down at Britt, staring hungrily at her cleavage. “Thanks again for the wine, and the fun.” He leaned lower and his tongue darted out, moistening his lips. “Happy birthday, Britt.”
This is it! By God, he is going to kiss me! She wetted her lips, closed her eyes, and waited, breathless.
A chaste kiss warmed her cheek.
What was that? The guy practically ravages me visually, kills me with those eyes, and then gives me a peck on the cheek? “Goodnight, Andre,” she forced out, following him to the front door. “Thanks for bringing over my gift.”
“No problem. See you later.” He left.
Mary and Britt stared at each other for a moment then Britt shrugged as she shut the front door and returned to the living room. “Was he a bundle of confusing signals, or what?”
“No, I think his interest in you was obnoxiously obvious.”
“Yeah, but at the same time it wasn’t. I got mixed signals. He must be a player, giving me those kinds of crazy signals to string me along,” Britt thought aloud.
“He’s a sexy one, that’s for sure. And there’s a little hint of something in his eyes.”
“You saw that, too?”
“Yeah. A touch of Bad Boy.” Mary sat forward and picked up the game again, sifting through its contents. “For the heck of it, what about pulling one of these cards?”
Britt dropped onto the couch. “Did you really think this game was a good idea?”
“Naw, but I could tell when she called me that your mother’s mind was made up. You know how she is. Although I admit, now that it’s here, it does sound intriguing. It might be fun.”
Britt considered Mary’s suggestion for a moment. Fun—in any form—was one of her favorite things in world. She’d never backed down from a challenge. Skydiving, white water rafting, bungee jumping, she’d eagerly tackled them all, and had a riot. “Okay. Shuffle the deck. I’ll draw a card.”
Mary grinned and held the cards in her upturned palm. “Already done. I knew you’d say that. Pick a good one.”
“You didn’t stack the deck, did you?” Britt teased, plucking the top card from the stack.
“Heck, no!”
Britt studied Mary’s devious smile—the woman was guilty as hell!—and read the card. “Go to the nearest BDSM-themed dance club and get the name and phone number of a Dom,” she read aloud. “What the heck kind of dating game is this?”
“We’ll just call it Extreme Dating,” Mary said, laughing. She ran to her duffel bag and dropped it on the coffee table.
“What do you have in there? And where do you suggest we’ll find a BDSM club? I can’t imagine one anywhere near here. We’re smack-dab in the middle of the Bible Belt. Heck, the raunchiest billboard we have along the highway is the one with the donkey.”
“You’d be surprised.” Mary pulled out a fistful of black leather and shoved it at Britt. “Here, this is for you.”
“What is it?” Britt unfolded what looked like a miniscule dress made to fit a small child. “You’re not suggesting I wear this, are you? And how do you know about these places and I don’t?”
“I have my sources.” Mary fluttered her eyelashes and held a racy red leathe
r dress, nearly the same shade as her pony-tailed hair, getup to her chest. “How do you think this’ll look?” One hand reached up and pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair, and she shook it, letting it fall in shoulder-length waves. “They say redheads can’t wear red, but I happen to think this looks fantastic. What do you think?”
“It looks great, I guess,” Britt said, admittedly sidetracked. She wanted to hear more about the club. “So, fess up. Have you been there? What’s it like?” Britt waited impatiently, watching Mary pull out spiked leather wristbands, fishnet stockings and various other accoutrements and set them on the coffee table.
“I’m not telling. But if you’d hurry up and put that dress on, you could go find out for yourself!”
Britt didn’t need to hear another word. She raced to her room to dress.
Chapter Two
“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Not exactly trusting her friend, since Mary had driven them to what looked like an abandoned warehouse out in the middle of nowhere, Britt hesitated before getting out of the car. At this point, she wasn’t sure which would be worse, Mary being right, or Mary being wrong and them both being jumped by a group of misguided teenagers out looking for a couple of lost women to mug.
For one thing, the dress—which hardly covered more than a bathing suit would—kept riding up her legs when she moved, the bottom of the skirt seeming to like resting right around her crotch. How in heaven’s name would she dance—or even walk—without giving everyone in the place a free show? The rest of the outfit wasn’t bad. The heavy silver jewelry was kind of sexy, and the stilt-like shoes made her legs look forever long.
Not good for walking on gravel though. She glanced out the window and grimaced.
“Yes, we’re in the right place. Trust me.” Mary climbed out of the car and waved for Britt to follow her.
She did. “You’ve been here before?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out about this place? It’s in the middle of nowhere, looks like an abandoned warehouse—”
