“Did you even taste that wine?” he teased.
I dropped my gaze to my glass. It was clutched in my hand. And empty.
“I was thirsty,” I said lamely.
Thankfully, everyone at the table laughed. But not so thankfully, the attention was on me now. My mom pursed her lips, and I knew a question was coming. One likely to make me feel awkward, judging by the look on her face.
And I wasn’t wrong.
“Lumia,” she said, “have you a hundred percent decided that you’re not bringing a date to the wedding?”
I suppressed a groan, but I was thankful that it was at least a question I could answer. “I’ve told you no fewer than three hundred and eighty-two times that I’m not.”
“Three hundred and eighty-two times?” my future sister-in-law echoed, sounding amused.
My mom ignored both of us. “It wouldn’t have to be a boyfriend. Just a date.”
I turned to my dad. “Aren’t you going to tell her that your baby girl doesn’t need a date?”
“I’m staying out of it,” he replied.
“Seriously?” I said.
He shrugged. “Sorry, sweetheart. Your mom got to me before we even left the house.”
I shot my brother an accusing look. “Let me guess. You too?”
“Even Liv is bringing someone,” he said. “We all just kind of assumed you’d want a date, so we left the plus one as is.”
“God. You’re all in on it!” I shook my head in disgust. “Can a grown woman really not go to a wedding by herself?”
“Of course she can,” my mother soothed.
“Unless she’s me,” I countered.
Aysia seemed to take pity on me, cutting in to say, “Speaking of dates…did I tell you guys that my cousin called and asked if she could bring both her boyfriend and her husband?”
The conversation steered away from me then, and I sighed and sat back. But instead of being able to relax, all I did was notice just how conspicuous the empty chair beside me was. For an irrational moment, I was annoyed at the restaurant for not taking it away. After all, we’d made the reservations for five people. Why leave the sixth chair? All it did was draw attention to the fact that I was alone.
Alone and lonely are not the same thing, I reminded myself.
In fact, I usually valued my independence. I’d fought for it. I’d won it. And now, a stupid wedding, and a stupid empty chair, and stupid one-night stand had me questioning it.
Great, I thought. Now you’re back to Ethan Burke. Can you really not go a minute without thinking about him?
But suddenly—like he’d been ripped from my mind and deposited into Ella’s Ristorante—there he was. Or to be more accurate, there was his laugh. The throaty, charming sound of it lifted through the air. And my gaze couldn’t help but seek out the sound. It only took a second to find him.
He stood just at the front of the restaurant, and he had his back to me, but I knew it was him. His tall, wide-shouldered form and thick, dark hair were unmistakable.
I blinked, thinking it—he—had to be a mirage. But he didn’t disappear with the rapid flicking of my lids and lashes. If anything, he…solidified.
He wore yet another new suit, this one pale, pale blue. On anyone else, the color might’ve looked washed out. But when he turned just enough that I could see his profile, I could also see that it contrasted perfectly with his ruddy skin. The hint of scruff he’d had for the last two days was gone, revealing his strong jaw, which dropped open as he let out another laugh.
My eyes darted from him to the source of his amusement—a petite hostess who was looking up at him with unashamed interest. And I couldn’t blame her. Ethan exuded strength. Wealth. Power. Confidence. I watched with narrowed eyes, vague irritation nipping at me, as the hostess led him across the dining room to a two-seater table. Not once did he look my way. And that bothered me even more. But not quite as much as it bothered me when he brought up his hand and set a small, silver gift bag on the table.
I knew that bag. Joyful Jo’s. The little shop had a reputation for sensually stimulating scents, and seeing the familiarly wrapped item made my throat squeeze for some inexplicable reason. Why had Ethan gone in? And what had he bought there? Something for himself?
You really think he bought himself soap, had it gift wrapped, then brought it here?
I swallowed against a strange thickness in my throat, then shoved my chair back harder than necessary and excused myself to use the bathroom. But I only made it two steps before I realized that he might see me and approach me. And that would lead to an awful lot of questions from my family.
Deciding it was better not to leave a meeting to chance, I took a breath, swung in his direction, and reworked my path so that it’d take me past him. The closer I got, the dryer my mouth went and the more sweat beaded along my forehead. My heart hammered so hard that I was sure every patron around me could hear it. And the worst part was that it wasn’t dread making me light-headed.
It was anticipation. Accompanied by an embarrassing need to hurry. So I forced myself to keep my eyes on the bag from Joyful Jo’s and moved at a measured pace, silently counting off the rest of the tables between us.
Four.
Three.
Two.
O—
“Hello, Mia.” Ethan spoke without turning around, and his voice—low and mildly amused—sent an unwanted shiver through me.
I flicked my gaze to the gift bag once more, then unbuckled my purse and deliberately dumped the contents on the floor beside him. “Whoops! Would you mind?”
He lifted an eyebrow, but slid from his chair and bent down on one knee anyway. “Everything all right?”
“Fine. Thanks so much for helping me out.” I said it loudly and cheerily as I started to scoop up my scattered items, then dropped my voice for his ears only. “What are you doing here, Ethan?”
“Lunch,” he replied easily.
“At the same restaurant as me?”
“Coincidence.”
“Bullshit. And I’m here with my family. So if you’re planning on making a scene to get your way…don’t.”
“I’m hardly that uncouth,” he said.
I snorted. “You admitted to being a ruthless bastard, so…”
“I’m ruthless. I’m not a total douche.”
“Right.”
“Do you really think I’m a total douche?” He almost sounded hurt.
I couldn’t help but soften. “No.”
“Good.”
He picked up my lip gloss—the last item on the floor—and held it out. I slid my fingers across to the tube, and his immediately enveloped mine, pinning them in place. Fighting the rapid pace of my pulse, I brought my eyes up to meet his. For a moment, the full force of his dark gaze hit me. I forgot all about the scented soap. But I remembered how his eyes looked in the dark in the throes of passion. How they consumed me as he had entered me without breaking our shared stare. I remembered how he’d wrapped his tongue around a rough and pleasant curse of approval. I remembered him. And I wanted all of it again. I could swear that if he’d reached for me right then and offered to press me to the ground and take me, I would’ve said yes. Screamed it, maybe.
Oh, God.
I took a slightly ragged breath and forced myself to remember something else—even if he wasn’t a total douche, he was the enemy, and I wasn’t supposed to want him.
I cleared my throat, tugged the lip gloss free, then stood so quickly that it almost made me dizzy, then planted a too-big smile on my face. “Thanks again.
I didn’t run. Not quite. But my feet definitely carried me to the bathroom far faster than was natural.
Chapter 7
Ethan
Shit.
It was the only word that came to mind as Mia tossed her newly refilled purse over her
shoulder and huffed her way across the dining room. The sway of her dress—a flirty, pink-and-purple flowered deal—showcased both her ass and her irritation.
Shit.
If I’d had a plan to stay cool, calm, and collected, it’d gone out the fucking window the second she got close enough for me to smell. Her scent had mingled perfectly with the honey-tinged soap in the little bag, giving me a hopeless hard-on and—again—making it impossible for me drop the speech I’d mentally prepared.
She was a plan wrecker. A destroyer of logical thought. And she was getting away.
Shit. Again.
Paying no mind to the whether or not anyone noticed, I shoved to my feet, grabbed the bag from Joyful Jo’s, and pushed through the restaurant to follow her. I reached the edge of the little hallway where she’d disappeared just in time to see her slip through a door.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it had to be the bathroom. I didn’t care. I stepped into the hall, slammed a hand to the same door, and shoved it open.
Eyes wide, Mia jumped back. Her ass smacked against the wall of the single-stall room, and her mouth dropped open.
“You can’t be in here!” she gasped.
I clicked the lock shut behind me. “But I am in here.”
“You can’t intimidate me.”
“Intimidation isn’t a tactic I usually employ.”
“So why follow me to the bathroom, then? Why show up at the restaurant in the first place?”
My mind blanked. Why the hell had I thought it would be a good to come? Lord knew stalking wasn’t the best business tactic.
“Having trouble coming up with a reasonable lie?” she taunted.
I refused to let her know it was damned near the truth, and I held the gift bag out on my finger. “Maybe I came to give you this.”
Her eyes flicked from me to the soap, then back again. “Bullshit.”
“Is that your word of the day?”
“Where you’re concerned.”
“Is it so hard to believe that I bought you a gift?”
“Yes. And I think you should leave.”
“Not until we’ve had a proper conversation,” I said.
“I told you I don’t want to talk,” she replied. “Let me leave, or I’ll scream.”
I took a small step forward, and my eyes dropped to her lips. “I’m sure I can come up with a creative means of stopping you.”
A blush lifted under her freckles. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
I stepped closer again, noting how her breath quickened. Dammit. I wanted her to do it. It’d give me the excuse I needed to eliminate the space between us.
“Scream, Mia,” I said, unembarrassed by the raw desire in my voice.
Her chest rose and fell a little more rapidly, and her gaze fell to my mouth, but she still shook her head. “So you can get your way?”
“My way involves a different kind of screaming,” I replied. “But you know that already, don’t you?”
“You’re a bastard.”
“So you keep saying.”
“What do you want?”
You.
The answer popped into my head before I could stop it, and once it was there, I couldn’t dismiss it. I did want her. Badly. My body ached with a distinct throb. It sure as hell wasn’t something I could admit, though.
I forced myself to say something else instead. “What’re you going to choose?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Are you going to scream and give me my way, or are you going to accept the gift?”
“I…”
“You what?”
She swallowed, her eyes finding the gift bag again. “I’m not taking a bribe.”
“A scream it is, then,” I replied.
She lifted her chin in a challenge. “So you admit that it’s a bribe?”
I fought a chuckle at her slightly triumphant tone. “I told you. It’s a gift.”
“And I told you. I don’t buy it.”
“It’s the truth,” I said.
“Why?”
“Why is it the truth?”
“Why would you buy me a gift, other than to try to convince me to listen to you?”
I set the gift bag down on the edge of the sink, shook my head, and ran a frustrated hand over my hair. “It was an impulse.”
“Joanna doesn’t allow impulsive gifts,” she said.
“You know her?”
“Everyone who works in the neighborhood knows her.”
“Good. That means you can go in and confirm that my story is true. I impulsively walked in and impulsively bought what she offered.”
Her gaze sought the bag yet again, and I realized something. She wanted it. She really wanted it, and she didn’t even know what it was.
But for some reason, I couldn’t make myself use it as a game piece.
“If Joanna sold it to me, then it really must be for you,” I said softly. “Take it. No strings.”
“Not a single one,” she warned.
“I promise.”
She stepped forward, scooped up the bag, and immediately lifted it to her nose. I watched, liking the way her eyes drifted half-shut as she inhaled. Liking even more how it brought her near enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. I wanted to pull her even closer. To drag out the soap from the bag and hold it against her skin and tell her how I imagined the honey scent covering her, head to toe. How I wanted to taste it on her.
Why, oh why hadn’t she chosen the damned scream?
I made myself take a little step away as I asked, “Any good?”
She offered me the smallest, tiniest, barest smile. “Very. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You know that this doesn’t change anything.”
“Not for me, either,” I said. “I still want what I want.”
“And I’m still not giving it to you,” she informed me. “How long until you leave?”
“My flight goes out tomorrow, late evening.”
A hint of disappointment seemed to flicker across her features, but she covered it quickly with another smile—this one wide and self-satisfied. “So. Does that mean you want me to ask my assistant store manager to draft up a copy of my complete schedule? It would save you the trouble of manually tracking me down.”
I smiled back, just as smug. “Actually. Tracking you down is a point of pride.”
“Aha.”
“Aha, what?”
“That’s the real reason you followed me here.”
“Pride?”
“To prove that you could do it.”
“And what good would that do? What would it prove?” I asked.
She lifted an eyebrow. “It would show me just how powerful you are.”
“And did it work?”
“No. It just proved that you’re easily distracted by shiny things.” She waved the gift bag at me.
“Hilarious,” I said dryly.
“I thought so. Now…if there’s nothing else…” She moved as if to slip by me.
I grabbed her elbow and dragged her back before she could close her fingers on the door. I expected her to yank herself away and push past. I wouldn’t have blamed her for doing it. Except she didn’t. What she did do was stop right where she was—no more than an inch or two between us—and lifted her eyes to meet mine. And I was lost. Drowning in that sweet stare.
Power? You have none. Not a modicum, I chastised myself silently. You don’t stand a fucking chance, Burke.
“Mia…” My voice was raw again, and I didn’t care.
She didn’t pull her gaze away. “Yes?”
“Are you still going to scream if I stop you from leaving?”
“Why don’t you
try it and find out.”
“Maybe I will.”
I gave her elbow a little tug. She tugged back. The only result was that instead of having a hairsbreadth of space between us, we had none. Her full, tempting breasts pressed to my chest as her inhales and exhales quickened. And my erection thickened to the point of painful.
“No scream yet,” she breathed.
“Give me a second,” I countered. “Trapping women in bathrooms is a relatively new endeavor for me.”
“Relatively?”
“Fine. A brand-new skill.” I bent my mouth to her ear. “But I don’t usually admit my virginity so easily.”
I pulled away so I could slide my hand up to her bare shoulder, then lifted my other hand to the same position on the other side. I took a step forward, and she had no choice but to either back up or be bowled over. In a heartbeat, I had her pressed to the locked door.
“Gonna be tough for you get out now,” I said.
She arched a brow. “And still…”
“No screaming,” I filled in.
“I guess you’ll have to try harder?”
“Actually…I don’t know if it gets any harder than this.”
“What do you—oh!”
She gasped out the last bit as I grabbed her hand and slid it to my lust-thick cock. I let her palm rest there for a long moment, enjoying the way her fingers tightened around me. I leaned in to the first little stroke, muttering a curse at the fact that my pants were in the way of a true touch.
It was the best kind of torture.
But strangely, not what I was in the mood for, so I slid my fingers over her knuckles and dragged her hand up to my shoulder.
Mia tipped her face up, a little frown creasing her forehead. “Is something wrong?”
I touched my lips to hers in a ghost of a kiss. “I said I was giving you a gift with no strings.”
“Me touching you is…a string?”
“You touching me is fucking amazing. But I don’t want any misunderstanding. I gave you that soap and I didn’t expect anything in return.”
A sweet, sexy little laugh escaped her lips. “Does that qualify as pillow talk in your books?”
I moved my hands to the knee-length hem of her dress and inched it up.
“No,” I said. “But it sure as shit qualifies as shove you against a bathroom door and put my tongue between your legs talk.”
Until Dawn Page 8
