by Ava Miles
His mouth curved. “Oh, man. Wonder Woman. Christ, that’s sexy.”
Told ya.
He stepped into Jill’s small entryway and shut the door, leaning back against it, all male nonchalance.
She ignored her alter ego and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly shy as his intense gaze lifted from her red shoes to her dolled-up face. He hadn’t looked at her this way in weeks. Her invitation had changed their tacit agreement of just being friends. Her skin felt as tightly stretched as a newly starched shirt.
“You even have the lasso,” he said.
She gazed at his costume. He hadn’t bothered to button the white, billowy shirt all the way up, and it exposed the middle of his chest. With the black cloth tied around his forehead and the gold earring dangling from his right ear, he looked somewhat sinister.
And hot too. She wanted to fan herself.
Shiver me timbers, Divorcée Woman purred.
Are you actually doing pirate talk in my head now? She almost pulled her own hair, but she didn’t want to disturb her wig.
“Did you hear me?”
“What?”
“You can use that lasso to tie me up anytime.”
Lustful images of her wrestling him to the ground and tying him up swarmed her mind.
Oh my, Divorcée Woman squeaked.
“Tanner?” She cleared her throat. “I want to be clear about tonight.”
He readjusted the fake antique gun in his leather-studded belt, drawing her eyes to his scandalously tight black pants. She looked at a point over his shoulder, telling herself not to look at his crotch.
You know you want to.
“I want to be clear that we’re only going to the party together.”
He sauntered forward, flicking back the black cloth brushing his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to set parameters this early on in the evening?”
Her breath hitched.
“You’re not starting a panic attack, are you?” he asked, his eyes wide.
She almost lied to make him back away. “Not yet, so let’s keep it that way.”
“If I were a real pirate, I wouldn’t be held off. I’d sweep you over my shoulder and carry you to my cabin and ravish you.”
God, the fantasy. Her heart pounded in her chest like a jackhammer. “That kind of talk is off limits tonight.”
He raised a brow. “Last time I looked, there was still free speech in this country. You might be able to set the terms on touching, but I can damn well say anything I want.”
This frustrated Tanner was new. Her growl nearly escaped, but Wonder Woman wouldn’t back down. “Not if you’re going with me.”
“Then why did you ask me to come?” The light in his eyes dimmed. “You’ve been getting pressure from Jill, haven’t you? Is this your attempt at appeasement?”
His ability to read her made her squirm. “Well, I…no.”
He scoffed. “That was believable. So let me get this straight. You invited me to go out with you because I’m probably the only man in town under fifty you haven’t already gone out with.” He snapped his fingers. “I’m right, aren’t I? It’s written all over your face.”
She fiddled with her wrist bands. “Well, I thought we could go out a little. Regularly. You know. As friends.”
He stepped closer, touching the tips of his black knee-high boots to her red ones. A strong musky smell tickled her nose. A pirate wasn’t supposed to smell that good. Where was the brine? The salt water? The B.O.?
“I was okay with taking a step back after what happened in your mom’s kitchen. I’ve tried to give you space. But I draw the line at being another one of your whipping boys, who isn’t supposed to act like a man.”
Her face flamed. “I’m not saying we can’t flirt. But I’m…playing the field.” So she was a red-headed slut after all, not to mention a coward. Maybe she should have worn a fraidy cat costume.
He chuckled low in his throat, sending her skin into a rash of goosebumps again. “Meredith, have you been practicing that in the mirror? If so, it needs more work, honey. You’re not the type of woman who plays the field. Any smart man can see that.”
So, he was smart, was he? She could feel her skin develop an angry burn. “Don’t tell me what I am.”
“Seems I need to make a point.”
He yanked her to him, finding her mouth. His lips caressed hers like an electric charge, making them tingle, the power growing stronger the longer the connection went on. And boy, did it go on, taking her on a slow descent into desire’s dark well. She moaned in her throat, her fingers digging into his shoulders. When he traced the seam of her mouth, she opened herself to him. Their tongues tangled, electricity racing down her spine and pooling in the center of her thighs. The kiss went deep, wet. Meredith pressed closer, the places their bare skin touched tantalizing. His hands gripped her hips, making her aware of his arousal. She whimpered again, angling her head for a deeper kiss. He tore her hands away and stepped back, panting.
“That’s what’s between us, Meredith.”
She pressed her lips together to stop the tingling. “What do you want me to say?”
“Meredith, I’m not going to be part of your endless male parade. I’ve been straight with you.” He looked away suddenly, but she caught his frown. When he turned back, his gaze pinned her in place. “I like you. I like spending time with you. But I want you, and I’m not going to be one of a dozen or so guys you date. If you want to spend time with me, it’s on an exclusive basis. We’ll take it slow and see where it goes, but I’m not going to agree not to touch you. I want us to touch each other as much as we can handle without killing each other.”
Her throat squeezed to the size of a straw.
Come on, she heard Divorcée Woman lovingly whisper. You can do it.
The fear towered over her like a black cloud. She stepped back from it.
“I…can’t.” Her eyes burned.
He gave a gusty sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that. I think we’d be good together, in bed and out. If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Tanner!” She realized she didn’t want him to leave. She’d never been so confused in her life.
“Why are you here?” he suddenly demanded.
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you come back to Dare?”
The desire to fidget was as tantalizing as a nicotine fix to a cigarette smoker. “I’m helping my family, remember?”
“Yes, but that’s not all, is it?”
She ran through some versions of the truth. “I want to find out if true love still exists. Okay?”
He flinched. “Oh, Meredith.”
His hushed tone had her stiffening. “Why are you here? This is about the farthest place from your usual beat.”
He looked down at his boots. When he raised his head, his clenched jaw and fiery eyes made her heart pound.
“Let’s just say I have to make good on a promise.”
“Ah—”
“No, I think that’s enough for tonight.” He ran his tongue across his teeth like he was in pain. “Besides, you’re forgetting you don’t date journalists.”
Had she? She wasn’t sure she’d be able to open herself to him even if he weren’t a journalist. The way he made her feel terrified her. Cold seeped around her as he opened the front door. She started shaking. “You’re right.”
“I’m mostly proud of what I am, Meredith. I’ve worked hard to get to this stage in my life.” The wind whipped the black cloth over his shoulder. “I’m not the fucking Cheese Man. Maybe you should remember that.”
The door slammed shut behind him. Maybe it was the wind, but her internal temperature had dropped twenty degrees. She struggled over to the orange couch on wobbly legs and unraveled the green afghan. Go out exclusively? He’d lost his mind.
Hadn’t he?
A fresh ache spread across the back of her skull. She thought about the way he’d looked when he told her he liked her. Her heart twisted like she’
d fallen on a stake. If she’d dressed up as a vampire, it might have been fitting.
You’re an idiot. Who turns down Wonder Woman/Pirate sex?
What the hell was she supposed to do now?
***
Tanner kicked up snow as he walked back to his car with a hard-on he was sure could be seen in outer space. The tight pants he was wearing had to be the worst idea since pet rocks.
Christ, what did she think he was? He wasn’t some fucking wimp who would put up with her “playing the field” crap. Especially when she kissed him back like she wanted to devour him. Her hot skin, wet mouth, and tortured moans had almost made him lose control, pulling her onto Jill’s hideous orange couch.
He ripped open the car door. Meredith didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. If she was playing the field, she’d have slept with at least one of the men she’d been “going out with,” and he knew for a fact that she hadn’t. Dare had a betting pool on who could talk Meredith Hale into the rebound sack. He’d walked away from the group of locals when they’d asked him how much money he’d like to lay down.
He’d like to lay down all right.
And it wasn’t in the betting pool.
More like pressing his face into her red hair as he thrust himself mindlessly into her strong, slim body. With only a Wonder Woman crown on her head.
He had to stop thinking about it. His pants were squeezing him to death.
He slammed the car in gear. He’d lost all objectivity. He kept forgetting why he was here when he was with her. He turned into some horny, jealous boyfriend. Dammit.
Edge back a minute, McBride. He did need her to be exclusive if he was going to convince Sommerville he was making headway. He had jack-shit on that asshole and was getting in deeper with his “target” every day.
He hadn’t lied to Meredith about one thing, though.
He really did like her. A lot.
Her quiet admission about coming home to find out if love still existed had squeezed his heart.
They were both trying to be as honest as they could. He’d have to think about that.
It was all getting so complicated.
And he had a hard-on in tight pirate pants for Christ’s sake. Pirate pants!
He gunned away from the stop sign and fishtailed on the ice. Needing some outlet for his frustration and the anger he felt toward himself, he pressed on the accelerator. No one was on the street. What did it matter if he took out a mailbox? He’d pay for it.
The tires gripped the ice, and he fought to keep the car straight. When he got to the highway, he rolled the window down and let it rip. He barely saw the deer in time and would have hit it if it hadn’t made a sharp zigzag off the road. He welcomed the adrenaline rush.
Memories of another night, another highway surfaced, but he clicked them off. The past was past. Only the present was real.
He’d made a stand with Meredith Hale.
He almost hoped she wouldn’t cave.
He had a bad feeling the pleasure of being with her wouldn’t be worth the pain it would cause them both.
He shifted in his seat. Who was he lying to now?
Chapter 17
Jill bounced away from the keg, sipping her pumpkin beer. “Monster Mash” played at a steady volume from somewhere behind her. A mummy made of whipped cream topped a buffet table, tempting her. She took a taste with her finger and gagged.
“Shaving cream,” a Star Trek officer noted.
“Gack.”
She was squeezing through two bloody vampires holding fake rats when an arm on her shoulder made her jump.
Jemma snorted. “Freaked out by the rats?”
“People are sick.”
Jemma’s Cleopatra wig shifted as she bobbed her head to the music. “They’re from Pat’s uncle. He’s a taxidermist in Idaho.”
“Yuck!” Jill reached over to adjust Jemma’s wig.
“You should have come as Ol’ Mother Hubbard. I’m fine.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re totally lit. Where have you been?”
“The back room. I decided to live a little tonight.”
“Jemma,” Jill scolded. “You’re not into that stuff.” Her nose picked up the pungent smell of marijuana and patchouli. “Dammit, Jem.”
The heavy touch of black kohl around her friend’s over-bright eyes was smudged. “Pete was here with his new girl. Can you believe it? He’s already seeing someone. I wanted to die before, but now I feel great.”
Jill wrapped her arms around her. “Oh, honey. Where is he? I’ll knock him in the nuts with my staff.”
“That would be awesome, Jillie. He took one look at me and bolted.” She pushed back, weaving in place.
“Better slow down a bit,” Jill said, wrapping a steadying arm around her.
Jemma’s kiss smeared red lipstick over her cheek. “Don’t be upset. You’re my best friend.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered, worry darkening her enjoyment. Damn Pete. Couldn’t he have waited at least a few more months?
Batman entered Lola Parson’s family room, making Jill freeze in place. He was a few inches taller than most of the partygoers. And she’d know that mouth anywhere.
“Brian’s here, Jem.”
“Go outside. I’ll keep him occupied. There’s no reason for both of us to be miserable.” Still unsteady on her feet, Jemma leaned against a beige ottoman, and then sank down into it, closing her eyes. “I’ll get to him in a minute.”
“I’ll watch her, Jill,” someone said from behind her.
As a Robin Hood, Ray Pollack wasn’t much of a dashing swashbuckler. He was too short and gangly for the tights, and way too nice to fight the nasty Sheriff of Nottingham. Being the college’s main marijuana dealer, he didn’t need to be strong. He needed to be smart. And he was—she knew that from the chats they had when he came in for his large soy mochas. Top of his class and pre-law. Jill appreciated the irony. Her grandpa had been pumping her for a name, but she wouldn’t give it. He was crazy to think anything serious was going on. People partied. People puked. It was a chemical reaction.
“Seems like your stuff already did its magic.”
His face fell. “She was upset about Pete. I told her to be sure.”
“Whatever. I’m going outside for some air. Glenda, will you keep an eye on her?” she asked a biology student who was dressed as a nurse.
“Sure, Jill,” she said, plopping down next to Jemma. “Best let her sleep it off. Poor kid. Pete’s an asshole.”
“You said it.” Jill smoothed the black hair from Jemma’s cheek, and then eased her way out onto the back porch.
The wind bit into her legs like a million slivers, but she could stand it for a few minutes. The clean air filled her lungs, dispelling the strong stench from indoors—strong perfumes and aftershaves mixed with beer and various types of smoke, both legal and illegal.
She jumped when a black form materialized next to her, his cape rippling. His amused smile made her want to bean him with her makeshift staff. He just had to follow her out.
Brian pointed to his chest, bending low so their frozen breath mingled in the air. “I’m—”
“Butthole,” she interrupted, depriving him of the famous line.
He rested his hand on his waist, his cape snapping in the wind. “Try another B word.”
“Butt blister.”
His smile deepened. “That’s two words.”
His familiar scent and those mischievous blue eyes had her shivering from more than cold. She snapped her fingers. “Bastard.”
His mask emphasized his frown. “I don’t think Little Bo Peep should talk that way.”
She tried to walk around him, but he kept blocking her.
“I don’t think Batman should harass Little Bo Peep.”
“Batman’s only trying to protect her from the big bad wolf. I think I saw one inside.”
“That’s a werewolf, you dumbass.”
He touched her white-ribbed bodice. �
��Aren’t you freezing?”
“Now that you mention it.”
He swung off his cape like a bullfighter, wrapping it around her before she could stop him.
“Shame to cover up that costume, though,” he said. “I think it’s even hotter than a French maid’s outfit.”
“Wear one often, do you?” Her smile was all teeth.
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, making her shiver even harder. “Yes, and I always keep my feather duster with me. You never know when it might come in handy.”
She pulled away. Damn him for not losing his sense of humor out East. She’d always loved their banter, and they way he never seemed to be at a loss for a comeback.
“I need to go back inside.” Her black heel caught in the crack between the deck boards.
His hands steadied her. “You ran out here in that scanty outfit to escape me, and now you’re running back in? This has to stop, Jill.”
She thrust her staff in his direction. He didn’t budge.
“You need to leave me alone.”
His eyes met hers dead center. “I’ve tried. I can’t, Jill. Your little lie about McBride pushed my buttons. It forced me to accept the truth.”
“That’s your problem,” she said, but a hitch in her voice betrayed her.
He spanned her waist, his thumbs tangling in the front laces of her outfit. “You wouldn’t be this upset if it wasn’t your problem too. Can’t you forgive me, Jill? Jemma has.”
“Fine, you’re forgiven,” she said even though she didn’t mean it. “Now let me go.”
He pressed his forehead to hers suddenly, resting the rubber mask against her skin. “I can’t let you go, Jill.” His sigh caressed her cheek. “Take off my mask.”
She tried to kick him, but he slid a hard, muscled thigh between her legs, right above the garter that held up her stockings. Her thighs clenched together around him, and she was afraid her head would fall back in surrender. Her skin was both burning hot and cold, like winter exposure.
“Let me go.”
“Take off my mask.”
Even cold and aroused, she knew his unmasking was metaphorical too.
“Dammit, Jill, take off my mask.”
“No!”
