Tempting the Best Man

by Tanya Michaels

  “If?” But she smiled, looking pleased by his apology.

  “You were so different from most of the girls I’d known.” And not because he’d rarely seen tattoos and turquoise-streaked hair at his parents’ country club. “You seemed to thrive on friction.”

  “Under the right circumstances, friction can feel pretty damn good.”

  His brain lit up with images of bodies rubbing against each other, and it was on the tip of his tongue to say to hell with the restaurant and ask her back to his apartment.

  But then she instructed, “Make a left at the intersection,” and he shifted his focus to driving. More or less.

  As they waited at the red light, he told her, “I know we were never friends in college, but I did admire you. I respected your smarts—”

  “Even when I got a higher grade than you did?” she needled.

  The gallant response would be yes. “On two projects, Hayes.” He’d busted his ass to earn an impressive GPA. “As I recall, I finished with a higher final score in both classes we had together.”

  “Because you were teacher’s pet, dutifully regurgitating what the professors told us instead of exploring more divisive interpretations.”

  “Arguing a premise out of sheer reflex is habit, not proof of intellectual superiority.”

  “And I suppose when you grade essays and exams, you reward students who mindlessly parrot what you’ve told them?”

  “Of course,” he snapped. “For I am an academic god with no patience for mere mortals who think for themselves.”

  She laughed aloud at his sarcasm. “Good thing we’re mature now and finally get along, huh?”

  He couldn’t believe that she’d provoked him so easily, yet sparring with her was perversely refreshing. “I was trying to pay you a compliment.”

  “Next time, I’ll handle the flattery with more grace.”

  “Pfft. What makes you think there will be a next time?”

  “Run out of nice things to say about me already, Professor?”

  You’re audacious and funny and so fucking sexy I can barely keep my eyes on the road. “I don’t think ‘nice’ applies to you.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Her grin was wicked. “I can be very nice when I want to be.”

  When she smiled like that, there wasn’t enough air in the car. His chest constricted. His body tightened with lust, and he gripped the steering wheel harder to keep from reaching for her. If he could’ve found his voice in that moment, he would have asked what it took to coax her to be nice.

  But he was starting to think maybe nice wasn’t what he wanted.

  * * *

  DINNER WITH DANIEL was a revelation. Mia couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun on a date. Is this a date? she asked herself as the waitress set dessert on the table. Daniel’s explanation for asking her out hadn’t been a burning desire for her company, simply that he needed “a change.”

  Still, his impersonal reasoning aside, their evening had the hallmarks of a date. Since Daniel had never been to the restaurant before, they’d decided to sample tapas plates instead of ordering entrées, sliding close together in the curved booth to share food. While enjoying yucca fries, miniature empanadas and grilled beef served with flavorful chimichurri, they’d had a lively conversation, discussing literature-based movies and arguing about which format was more successful for each story. Most date-like of all, there was palpable chemistry between her and her smoking-hot companion.

  Daniel might spend a lot of his time teaching classes and publishing academic papers, but it was clear from his muscular build and lithe grace that he didn’t overlook physical recreation. He’d mentioned weekly basketball games with Eli and jogging the paths around the Chattahoochee River in warmer weather. It was difficult to decide which was sexier—his toned, masculine body or the gleam in his silvery eyes when he teased her. She was discovering he had a much better sense of humor than she would’ve anticipated. Daniel Keegan in a playful mood was nearly irresistible.

  Mia tried not to get bogged down by regrets, but for the first time she wondered what their earlier relationship would have been like if she hadn’t had a chip on her shoulder when they’d met. She’d gone off to college angry with her father and her stepmother, wounded at their lack of support when she’d needed it most and betrayed by their attempts to remake her in the image of her oh-so-proper stepsister. Never gonna happen.

  “Hey.” Daniel lightly poked her shoulder. “Did I lose you somewhere? I could understand if I’d been droning on about Renaissance literature, but I was sharing a quality childhood anecdote from my limited supply. I can count on one hand the number of times my brothers and I indulged in humorous shenanigans.”

  “Then we have that in common.”

  “Really? I would have thought your youth was full of shenanigans.”

  Far fewer than he imagined, and none with her stepsister. “Patience and I didn’t have a whimsical relationship.”

  “Patience being your sister?” He reached for a chocolate-coated slice of plantain.

  “Step. It was just me and Dad for years. He remarried the summer before I started high school, and, boom, suddenly I had an older sibling. We’re only a year apart in age, but Patience...” Mia couldn’t think of a way to describe her that didn’t sound petulant.

  “Is she bossy? I have lifelong experience being the youngest sibling.”

  “Patience is shy and soft-spoken. She wouldn’t be able to boss around the world’s most accommodating personal assistant, much less me. We couldn’t be less alike.” Much to their parents’ dismay.

  Even now, years after the fact, the memory of her father’s words were a raw wound. I’m not saying that it was your fault, but I can’t imagine the same thing would have happened if Patience had been in your situation.

  “I don’t want to talk about my family,” she said abruptly.

  Daniel nodded, unfazed by her harsh tone. Perhaps he’d heard it often enough in college to be used to it. “How did you decide you wanted to be an event planner?”

  “By accident. I was interning for a horrible woman who used to pawn off her personal errands on me, everything from picking up her dry cleaning to emptying her cat’s litter box—which I firmly refused to do. But then she put me in charge of her parents’ anniversary party, and it was more fun than work. I mean, who doesn’t love a party?”

  He gave her a sheepish look, silently admitting parties weren’t his favorite place to be.

  But Mia had never been one to back down from a challenge. “I bet I could plan you the perfect party.” A successful event meant different things to different guests. One person’s backyard kegger was another person’s museum wine-tasting. She’d coordinated myriad events, everything from painting parties to bar mitzvahs to themed scavenger hunts.

  “My birthday’s in early February,” he told her, sliding the dessert plate toward her so she could take the last piece. “It’s tempting to hire you to plan a celebration instead of going to my parents’. Breaking tradition would probably get me disowned, but...” He hitched a shoulder in a half shrug, suggesting family exile might not be the end of the world.

  “My mom hosted my favorite birthday party of all time.” It was one of the few vivid memories she had of her mother. “It was for our dog, Sasha.”

  He grinned. “You had birthday parties for the dog?”

  “Not every year. Just that once. It had been a hot-as-hell summer, and I was antsy to start kindergarten.” She knew those details more from hearing her dad repeat the story than from her own recollections. “To help me pass the time—and probably for her own entertainment, since I had to be driving her crazy—Mom said we should have a party for the dog. She told me Sasha was turning one, but I have no idea if the dog’s birthday was even in July. Mom invited other puppies from aroun
d the neighborhood. She organized games and baked a cake for me and my friends in the shape of a giant bone. I still have the picture she snapped in the ten seconds when all the dogs were actually wearing their party hats.” Less than six months later, her mother had been killed in a car accident.

  Daniel was smiling at her story. “Maybe, subconsciously, you decided then that you wanted to be a party planner.”

  She tried unsuccessfully to smile back. Her face felt stiff, and her throat was tight. She was glad when the waitress interrupted, bringing their check. Mia offered to pay half, but Daniel insisted that since dinner had been his idea, he should pay.

  “Besides,” he added, grabbing a couple of mints as they exited, “I owe you. This place is fantastic, and without you, I never would have known it existed.”

  The restaurant was small and family-owned, on a lot so tiny that parking was several blocks away. “It’s true they don’t do much advertising.” Mia was constantly telling people about the hidden gem, doing her part to keep the place in business. “I’m not even sure they have a website. Thank goodness for repeat customers and word-of-mouth recommendations.”

  “Word-of-mouth and networking must be important for your business, too. Eli said Bex met you at some friend-of-a-friend event?”

  “She was actually a guest at two completely unrelated functions I handled—a baby shower for one of her former sorority sisters and a bachelor auction benefiting the hospital. We hit it off, and she asked me to do their wedding, even though it’s not my area of expertise. Theirs will bring me up to half a dozen.”

  “Seems to me that opportunities for expansion are a sign of a successful company. I’m impressed you’ve managed to thrive in a customer-based field.”

  Mia stopped dead on the sidewalk, narrowing her eyes. “Your surprised tone is ever so flattering.” Was the man always going to underestimate her?

  “Sorry. There was meant to be a compliment in that.”

  “Must have missed it,” she said.

  “It’s impossible to make everyone happy, right?” He unlocked his car with the key remote as they approached. “I’ve had more than one student drop my class or complain to the department chair about a grade—although so far, he’s upheld all my decisions. In order for you to build clientele, there’s a certain amount of people-pleasing inherent in your job. But there must be times you’d rather verbally skewer someone.” He opened her door for her, his expression darkening. “Like with that jerk who grabbed you at Eli’s party.”

  He was far from the first. She sighed. “Since he’ll also be a wedding guest, I suppose I could have tried to handle that with more diplomacy, but—No, screw that. He didn’t deserve tact. Getting groped in college by idiot fraternity guys who considered it flirting was bad enough. But he was a grown-ass man who should know better. Hopefully, he’ll think twice next time before making a move on some poor bartender or waitress.” Or babysitter. Mia clenched her hands, her fingernails digging into her palms as Daniel crossed to the driver’s side.

  He turned the key in the ignition, his posture tense. “You got groped a lot in college?” Maybe she wasn’t the only one with anger issues; from his tone, he sounded like he wanted to go back in time and dole out some fist-based justice.

  “Probably less than the average female university student.” She’d gained a reputation after pepper-spraying a guy who had trouble processing no. “I like sex.”

  The car jerked unsteadily as they backed out of the parking spot.

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to have it with just anyone,” she continued. “Nor am I required to defend my decision not to have it. I told Shannon earlier today that I respect men who are direct, who aren’t afraid to make their attraction known. I’ve never been mad at a man for showing interest. But when the interest isn’t mutual, it’s time to back the hell off. Too many guys willfully lie to themselves about what constitutes encouragement. A woman inhaling and exhaling is not a sign of burning lust.” And a teenager wearing a tank top and shorts on a humid, hundred-degree day was not a sign that she wanted to be pawed at by a man twice her age.

  Daniel was quiet as he turned onto the street leading back to her office, and Mia realized she’d been ranting. She hadn’t meant to sound so hostile; Daniel hadn’t done anything wrong. He’s one of the good ones. She was pretty sure she’d had the situation at the bachelor party under control, but she appreciated his coming to her aid. Chivalry might be on the endangered species list, but it wasn’t extinct.

  “So, what should a guy look for as real signs of interest?” he asked, changing lanes.

  She eyed him, trying to decide if he was making light of her tirade.

  “I just got out of a long-term relationship with a woman I’d been seeing on-and-off since middle school,” he told her.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Our families convinced us to go to the eighth-grade formal together.”

  Ugh. Mia couldn’t imagine dating anyone handpicked by her parents. No doubt they would have tried to find someone who would be a “good influence” on her.

  “My flirting skills are rusty.” Daniel parked next to her car, one of the few left in the lot. “Assuming I ever had any in the first place.”

  “If not skill, per se, definitely potential.” Sure, he used to annoy the crap out of her, but did he know there’d also been times when he’d made her knees weak and her stomach quiver? “I fantasized about you once or twice during Dr. Leonard’s lectures.”

  Even in the dim lighting, Daniel’s wide-eyed gape was obvious. But he recovered quickly. “What kind of fantasies?” His voice was silky, coaxing.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you. Someday.”

  The air between them crackled. His intent expression was heady, the thrill that shot through her even more delicious than plantain s’mores. Self-preservation had her climbing out of the car before she did something crazy. Like front-seat sex in the office parking lot?

  It was a beautiful, clear winter night. An impressive number of stars twinkled down on them despite the city’s lights. Shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat, she sat on the hood of her car and took a moment to appreciate the view. Daniel joined her, standing with his elbow against the hood. How would he react if she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss?

  “Flirting lesson number one,” she said lightly. “If a woman admits you’ve starred in her fantasies, she’s probably interested.”

  His mouth curved in a sensual smile. “Probably?”

  Damn, he had a great mouth. For all that she’d scoffed at him in the past about being an unimaginative rule follower, he had full lips more reminiscent of sweaty carnal weekends than stuffy classroom lectures.

  “Gaze can be a good indication of desire,” she murmured. Had he noticed her staring? “If a woman’s uncomfortable, she might glance around for exits or possible rescue. If she’s attracted, there’s often a lot of eye contact.”

  He leaned close enough for her to breathe in peppermint and the faint, pleasant scent of sandalwood soap. “And if she’s looking at my lips like she wants to taste them?”

  So, yeah, he’d noticed. Since she was busted anyway, she gave in to impulse and traced his bottom lip with her finger. He shuddered out a breath, warm on her skin, his pupils dilated in dark contrast to his silvery eyes.

  Her own breathing was unsteady as she slid her hand down his chest. “Go with your instincts.”

  With a sound that was part sigh, part groan, he cupped the nape of her neck and bent toward her. He traced her lips, as she had his, but with his tongue, teasing, enticing, before he angled his head and deepened their kiss, thrusting into her mouth. A jolt went through her, like a small static-electricity shock without the sting. This was pure pleasure.

  She’d entertained dozens of naughty thoughts about Daniel Keegan, ye
t she’d never believed she would actually be in his arms, hungrily kissing him. It had been worth the wait. He wasn’t just good at this; he was wickedly skilled, setting off hot prickling need through her body. Her knees fell to either side as he stepped closer, breaking their kiss to scrape his teeth over the column of her throat. Clutching his shoulders, she tilted her head to give him better access. He supported her with one strong arm behind her back.

  His other hand had pushed aside her jacket and was sliding over the slope of her breast. She closed her eyes as he palmed her through the layers of clothing. Aching desire built, her nipples hard and seeking attention. He stroked one with his thumb, and she tugged him close for a frantic kiss. When he pinched the sensitive peak, his mouth muffled her involuntary cry. It was all she could do not to pull him across her and have sex right there on the hood of her—

  “What do you kids— Oh...” A man cleared his throat as a beam of light hit Mia’s face.

  She blinked, dazed by sensation and confused by the disembodied voice. Daniel was much quicker to react. While she was still mentally processing that they’d been interrupted by the night security guard who patrolled the property, Daniel had already straightened, tugging her wrist to pull her off of the car and partially behind him. He stood between her and the glare of the flashlight.

  The stout security guard sounded as flustered as she felt. “Mistook you for a couple of teenagers. You shouldn’t be here.” Suddenly, he rocked back on his heels. “Ms. Hayes?”

  It wasn’t uncommon for her to work late hours, and the guard had offered to walk her to her car on more than one occasion. She raised her hand in a limp wave. “Hey, Myron.”

  He locked his gaze on the pavement, stammering, “I, ah...”

  “We were just saying good-night,” Daniel said. “We’ll be on our way now.”

  Myron’s head bobbed in relieved agreement. “Good, good. Y’all drive safe.” He got back into the little golf cart he used to cover the spacious lot.