I stifled a groan and answered in my cheeriest voice. “Hey, Liv!”
“What’s all that noise?”
“The, uh, rain?”
“Sounds like you’re standing in the middle of it.”
“Just an open window,” I lied. “What’s up?”
There was a pause. “You called me.”
“Oh.” Whoops. I winced. “Would you believe it was a butt dial?”
She let out a sigh so loud that I could hear it over the rain. “I’m guessing you’re not at work with an emergency.”
“Not exactly,” I answered.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
“It’s regular work, isn’t it?” She made it sound like a particularly contagious disease. “You’re sitting up there in that office of yours, beading away, aren’t you?”
“Okay. One, I don’t ‘bead’. I design. And two, I’m definitely not sitting in my office.”
“You’re still working when you could be drinking and ogling the groomsmen,” she said.
Wondering how I’d been roped into this conversation while standing in a tree, I shook my head. “I have zero interest in ogling.”
“The whole purpose in being a bridesmaid is to ogle. And be ogled. In fact, it’s the perfect excuse to suck face with some hot guys. Maybe even go home with one.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Men!” The word burst out in an exasperated tone, and my face warmed even though she couldn’t see me.
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that—”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t kiss—or go home with—men casually.”
“Well. That a given. You don’t do anything casually,” she pointed out.
“Exactly.”
“You know what? I’m about to do you a huge favor.”
“Great.” I infused the word with as much sarcasm as I could.
But she just laughed. “I’m issuing you a dare, Lumia Diaz.”
I groaned. “God. My brother told you, didn’t he?”
Her response was far too innocent. “Told me what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Olivia Holt. Marcelo told you that he used to dare me to do stuff when we were kids and that I couldn’t say no.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he told Aysia and she told me.”
“Great,” I muttered again.
“Are you going to say yes?” she wanted to know.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know that you came up with it, and that’s enough.”
“I’m daring you anyway,” she said.
“Fine,” I replied. “Give me your useless dare.”
“The next attractive man you see…kiss him.”
“What?” I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but not that.
“Drop whatever you’re doing, walk up, and kiss him.” Liv said it like it wasn’t an insane suggestion.
“I can’t do that.” But my never-back-down mind was already narrowed in on the logistics. “What if he turned out to be married?”
“Then he’d push you away pretty quickly, wouldn’t he?”
“Or his wife would punch me.”
“Check for a ring before you do it then.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who decides if he’s attractive?”
“You do, of course.” She paused, then added, “And that doesn’t mean you can just decide that no man is attractive from here on out.”
“And if I decided—hypothetically—to kiss this unknown but attractive man…what then?”
“Then at least you’ve kissed a man sometime in the last decade.”
“Hey!”
She let out another laugh, and I swear to God it was a cackle. “Please, Lu. We both know you’ve basically got the Fort Knox of vaginas.”
“That is so not true.”
“When’s the last time you got laid?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“That gives you away right there.”
In spite of my best effort to keep it under control, my temper flared. “I don’t need to disclose the details of my sex life to you—or anyone else—just for the sake of proving that I have one. So, no. I won’t take your stupid dare.”
Liv didn’t seem to be fazed. “Whoa. I wasn’t trying to hit a nerve.”
“It’s not a nerve. It’s a choice.”
“I just thought you needed a push.”
“Yeah. Well. I don’t.”
She let out another of her noisy sighs. “I’m going to take a wild leap here and say that you’re not popping by for a drink?”
I surveyed the tree. And my abandoned shoes. And my hiked-up skirt.
“I’m a little…indisposed,” I told her.
“Okay,” she said, “but if a good-looking man happens to fall into your lap…”
“There won’t be any laps.” I looked down. “And no falling, either. I hope.”
“Just think about it.”
“Bye, Liv.”
“Bye, Lu.”
I stood there for a minute, staring down at the still-black phone. I had no way to tell if the call had actually ended, and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Liv—and maybe everyone else too—being treated to the oh-so-pleasant sounds of me clambering down a tree.
“Not happening,” I muttered.
One slow knee at a time, I bent down. I kept one hand secured to the tree trunk and stretched the other toward the phone. My fingers tapped the edge of the purse, and I tried to pull it closer. I didn’t even bother celebrating. Which was a good thing. Because in keeping with the last half hour of my life, all the contact between my hand and the purse did was send the phone flying out of the tree.
My eyes started to close in frustration, but a thump and yell from beneath me—“Shit!”—made them jerk open again.
Startled, I flipped my gaze toward the source of the curse.
For a second, a pair of eyes so dark that they looked almost black and framed by thick lashes stared back. They were the kind of eyes that begged to be drown in. Faintly exotic. Almost enthralling. And just distracting enough that I forgot about the rain and the tree and the bare feet. But those three things didn’t forget about me. The moment my hand slipped from the tree trunk, a gust of wind sent a slap of rain my way. My feet skidded over the bark, and I yelped at the sudden scrape. I lost control.
I plummeted straight from the branch directly onto the man below, effectively knocking the dark-eyed stranger to the ground.
I had to grudgingly acknowledge that Liv had been right after all. There was falling. And a lap. I’d done the former and landed with my head in the latter. And worse than that, there was no getting around a few small, very important details. The man who I’d more or less flattened was very definitely attractive.
The lines of his face were chiseled and distinct. Prominent cheekbones. Thick, stubble-dusted jaw. Straight nose and dark, even eyebrows. His features belonged on a model. His don’t-give-a-shit curve of a half-smile—almost a sneer—fit the bill perfectly too.
And slight sneer or not, his lips were as seductive as the rest of his face. Firm-looking. And they had to be warmer than the wind that blasted through the air. They were the kind of lips that made Liv’s dare seem a little more realizable. More desirable.
But I can’t really kiss him. Can I?
Except maybe I could. And maybe I kind of wanted to.
I released my lip and sucked in a tiny breath in its place. His gaze flicked to my mouth. Hung there. Like he could read my mind. Then his eyes came up again and locked with mine.
It should’ve been weird. Sitting, gazing into the eyes of a total stranger for such a long, silent moment. Instead, it was
…intense. And a little hot.
More than a little, I acknowledged.
Which is why, when one of his hands came up to brush away a loose strand of hair, my fingers moved all on their own. They reached forward, snapped closed around his overpriced tie, and tugged. Hard.
At the last second, common sense reared its head. I tried to stop the trajectory. Tried to yank myself backward. And I almost succeeded. Maybe I would have succeeded, if the dark-eyed stranger’s hand hadn’t come up just then to cup my cheek. Or if it hadn’t been warm and pleasant, and tugged me forward as it sent a startling thrill through me. Maybe then.
But maybe not.
Chapter 2
Ethan
I don’t know what the hell possessed me. Jet lag? Too much rain in my ears soaking into my brain? The insane certainty that the look in her eyes—this unknown, unnamed, red-haired woman—said she wanted to kiss me? Or maybe just sheer, reckless stupidity. Probably a lot of that last one, actually. Either way, the result was the same. I leaned forward and brushed my lips to hers.
I had a heartbeat of sheer enjoyment. A heartbeat of mouth-to-mouth with a total stranger. A beautiful, rain-wet stranger, who clung to me. Whose mouth was butter soft. Warm. Responsive. Fulfilling a fantasy that I didn’t even know I had. Reminding me that it’d been far too long since I put pleasure before business. It was long enough to decide that there was at least one good thing about Vancouver and its shitty weather—it drove the women within its borders insane. In a hell of a good way. And it was by far one of the best damned heartbeats I’d ever had.
Then a bang echoed through the air, and she jerked back with a soft gasp.
In some ingrained reflex that came from God knew where, I became a wannabe hero. I pushed myself up. I pushed her down. Then I leapt on top of her to cover her body with my own, careful to keep from crushing her while still shielding her. A few more, rapid-succession bangs filled my brain with the idea that shrapnel could be raining down on us at any second. I braced for it. Instead of being hot with incoming weaponry, though, we were assaulted with color. Blue. Then red. Then blue again. And I clued in.
So did the redhead. “Is that…”
“Fireworks,” I confirmed, rolling off her.
“Literal fireworks?” Her voice was soft and pleasant and a little breathless as she pushed to a seated position.
“Think so.”
“I kiss a stranger and fireworks go off. What are the odds of…” She trailed off, her eyes going wide. “Oh, God.”
I stared at her, so distracted by the way a pink blush crept up between her freckles that I almost forgot to answer. “What?”
“I’m so sorry!”
“You’re sorry?”
“I just…this is so embarrassing. It was a dare, and I…God. I can’t even…if it weren’t for the stupid coffee…ugh…” With each awkward sentence, her skin grew redder, her breathing a little more uneven.
Damned if I could tear my eyes away from her.
Her words faded to the background as I watched her talk. I was mesmerized by the way she sucked in one breath after another. Held captive by how the air made her lips tremor. My eyes hung on those quivers. I wanted to taste her mouth again.
Not just again…more thoroughly.
I wanted to run my tongue over her lips, then slip it between them. Slowly. To kiss the unknown, unnamed woman breathless.
The need was so intense that I had to forcibly rip my gaze from her mouth. It didn’t help. My eyes stalled on her freckled chest and ran over the peachy spots with interest. Some were spread out, others close together. I couldn’t help but search for a pattern, thinking that they brought to mind one of those connect-the-dots games I’d liked to play as a kid.
Except in this case, I’d choose to play it with my tongue rather than a pen.
The errant, dirty thought slipped through before I could stop it. Once it had come, I couldn’t pretend the idea didn’t have appeal. I could even see the freckles I’d call One, Two, and Three—all just above her ample cleavage—and I had no problem imagining just how high the number would get before I finished.
I was so distracted that it took me a minute to remember that in polite circles, it was better to focus on a woman’s face rather than her other assets. So I dragged my gaze up from her tempting chest to her eyes instead. The shifted attention did nothing to ease the distinct tightness of my pants.
On first glance, I’d thought her eyes were hazel, but now I saw that I was wrong. She had warm, light brown irises. Like melted caramel. It made me want to lick my lips. Which brought me back to licking her body.
Jesus, Burke, I thought. Get a hold of yourself.
I forced my attention back to the fact that she was still rambling, and I tried to focus on what she was saying.
“So if you could not call the police, that’d be—”
“Wait. What?”
“The police. I mean. If the roles were reversed…” she said.
“If I’d fallen out of a tree and landed on you, we’d be calling 911,” I replied dryly.
“That’s not what I was talking about.” She sighed. “Look. I really am sorry.”
My mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. “So you said.”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“What part are you most sorry about?”
She frowned, the freckles on her forehead creasing together. “I’m not sure I…”
“There’re a few things to pick from,” I said. “Dropping a phone on my head. Falling out of a tree and landing on me? Or—”
A blush spread out under freckles. “All of it!”
“All of it wasn’t bad,” I said. “Or at least not apology-worthy.”
She blinked those honey-browns of hers at me, then shook her head. “I swear I don’t normally do this kind of thing.”
“I would never have guessed.”
She winced. “It was pretty bad, wasn’t it?”
“Bad?” I echoed. “Not the word I’d use.”
“What word would you use?”
“Adult-film-star-esque?” I teased.
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t think that’s a word.”
“Is now.” I pushed to my knee, stood, then held out a hand.
She took it and let me pull her to her feet. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I held her fingers in mine for another second before releasing them and adding, “Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“Why did someone dare you to kiss me?”
“Not you. Not specifically.”
“Who?”
“Who dared me?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
I fought a laugh. “That too. But I meant who were you dared to kiss?”
“Oh.” Her blush became crimson. “My friend dared me to kiss the next…uh…guy that I saw.”
The admission disappointed me. Well, what were you expecting to hear, Ethan? That a complete stranger would want you to play connect the dots with her freckles and your tongue?
Still. When I met her eyes again, I got the feeling that she was leaving something out. There was a palpable heat in the air between us, and I could barely feel the rain.
“So…” I said slowly, and took a step closer. “I could’ve been anyone. A troll. Or someone’s grandpa. A one-legged, one-eyed pirate.”
She exhaled but didn’t move away. “No. There was a condition.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You don’t really want me to tell you.”
“I really do.”
Her eyes dropped down, and her cheeks went almost crimson. “He had to be good looking.”
The statement made me itch to touch her again. “And was it a success?”
<
br /> Her gaze flicked up. “What do you mean?”
“The dare. If your friend were to have witnessed it, what rating would she give it on a scale of one to ten?”
She hesitated. “Honestly?”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
“Probably not more than a five. At best.”
“Ouch.”
“What?”
“Even handsome strangers have bruise-able egos,” I said.
How she managed to get even redder was beyond me. “I wasn’t calling you a five. The performance—my performance—was a five.”
I lifted an eyebrow and repeated her words back to her. “At best.”
“I fell from a tree,” she pointed out.
“And broke a cell phone on my head.”
“Well. To be fair. It was broken before it hit you. But yes.”
“What about the kiss itself?” I asked, my eyes flicking to her mouth.
Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth for a second. “It was…quick.”
“Too quick to earn a stamp of dare-approval from your friend?”
“Probably.”
“So you can’t very well go back and tell her you did it, can you?”
Her caramel gaze met mine. “What are you suggesting?”
I reached out and dragged the back of my hand over hers. “That you try it again.”
“Doesn’t it ruin the dare if you know about it?”
A vision filled my head, then, of the pretty redhead and her soft lips being thrown at some other man. As unreasonable as it might’ve been, I hated the thought.
I had to force an even tone and a casual shrug. “I’m still a stranger. And presumably still attractive.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?
“You’re serious?”
“As a funeral.”
She shifted from bare foot to bare foot. “So should I just—”
Suddenly impatient, I stepped forward and moved my fingers up to clasp her chin. I tipped her face up, and she pushed to her tiptoes, her breasts brushing my chest as she leaned in. I could feel the heat of her lips. Almost taste their softness. And God how I wanted it to happen. Didn’t want to wait a single damned second more.
So I was sorely disappointed when she pulled back a little and gasped, “Wait!”
Until Dawn Page 2
