The Dare (The Chronicles of Katrina One)

by Karin Tabke

She was swarmed by her colleagues after she wrapped up, and was glad that Evan had left the room. She let out a long sigh of relief. Good riddance.

  Almost an hour later, after an impromptu Q&A session, Katy stood by the elevator door, ready to return to her room on the fifth floor, and caught her breath when it opened. The stranger she had invited into her bed the night before nearly plowed into her. Her face flushed hotly. No longer the confident scientist, she was a nervous as schoolgirl. Even more than Evan, Green Eyes was the last person on earth she wanted to run into! He must think she was a tramp of the worst kind. Oh God, why had she allowed Evan to goad her into such a scandalous encounter? If she had one wish it would be to disappear. To her horror, he stopped when he realized it was her.

  A wide smile split his face. He had dazzling white teeth. “Just the lady I was looking for.” His voice was warm and husky. She shivered as she remembered … everything. Dear God, please don’t let me come across as pathetic. She mustered some of her anger at Evan and turned it on Green Eyes. Attitude went a long way, baby.

  Katy straightened, set her hand on her hip, and cocked a brow. “Really?”

  “I just went to your room to tell you the douche you’re with isn’t worth your time. Any guy who would do that to his girl is an asshole. Then I was going to send him packing, turn my charm on you, and beg you to run away with me.”

  “You’re too late,” Katy said, stepping into the car and pressing her floor. When the doors closed she glanced up at her handsome one-night stand. “The rat bastard douche bag outted himself last night.”

  “So you’ll run away with me?”

  Katy smiled despite herself. “I’m swearing off all men at the moment.” Her face tightened. Thankfully there were no stops before her floor. “Now if you will excuse me.” She moved past him into the hall, but he called after her.

  “I’m not really a man!”

  “I saw your package,” she threw back at him, his humor and confidence giving her mood a boost. “You’re most definitely a man!”

  “When you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.” As she rounded the corner to her room she stopped short.

  Evan nervously paced outside. Like he was afraid. Afraid she might tell his wife? As much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t. That was their business.

  “Just leave me alone,” she said brushing past him.

  “I left my wallet on your nightstand.”

  She shook her head. Prick. No declaration of his feelings. No “I’m sorry, I’m going to leave my wife,” as if she would even consider him now. No—nothing.

  Quickly she slid the key card into the slot and strode into the room, tossed her leather portfolio on the bed, grabbed his wallet off the dresser and threw it at him. He caught it without looking at it. “Katy, I’m sorry.”

  “You are sorry. And I’m sorrier for not seeing what was right in front of me.” She strode to the door and yanked it open. “Do not, ever, under any circumstances contact me again or I will track down your wife and tell her what a two-timing slime bag her husband is.”

  His face drained of color. She laughed at him. “You’re such a girl, Evan. Go home to your wife. I wouldn’t have you now if you were the last man on earth.” She pushed him backward until he was out of her room, slammed the door shut, threw the dead bolt, then sank to the floor and cried.

  Why she cried she did not know. It wasn’t like the love of her life had dumped her. At the most, she had been in-like with Evan, and if she were honest with herself, had he been a little more attentive, and not married, she could have fallen in love with him.

  Maybe.

  She was crying because she let herself down. What she did last night…

  If what happened in this room last night got out, her credibility amongst her peers would be gone. Because everyone knew you could not have a genius IQ and fuck a stranger, and like it all while your married boyfriend watched!

  The world of science was funny like that. Sexpot and brains did not come in the same package. There was a rule about it somewhere.

  Hanging her head between her knees, she cried some more. How long she cried, she didn’t know and she really didn’t care. Her swollen face felt like she had cried for hours, maybe she had, but when the tears no longer fell she got mad again. Angrily she paced her hotel room and told Evan Scott off a half dozen different ways and then told him in painful detail what she would do to him if she ever got her hands on him again.

  Flinging the bathroom door open, she slammed it shut just because she needed to physically vent. She pulled her skirt up, pulled her panties down, and plopped down on the toilet and peed. When she looked at herself in the long mirror on the back of the door, she gasped. Her long curls were snarled and matted. Her eyes nothing more than puffy slits sitting atop splotchy red cheeks and a runny red nose.

  “You’re pathetic Katrina Winslow. No wonder you attract losers.”

  She wiped herself and shucked her clothes. She didn’t need Evan Scott or Green Eyes for that matter. And she’d prove it.

  She jumped in the shower, and when she stood dried and naked before the mirror she made a pact with herself. No more men. Clarify: No more relationships. She was tired of having her heart broken. That said, she wanted a lover who could do the things to her that Green Eyes did. With that commitment to herself, she dared herself to dress to kill, and go downstairs to the hotel bar.

  Well, for her it was dressed to kill, for other women it might be dressed to bore. She did have one wardrobe vice: she was never without her requisite black suede Louboutin peekaboo pumps. For her walk on the wild side tonight, she wore a scooped neck form-fitting white cashmere sweater, and a fitted black linen skirt that buttoned down the back all of the way to the vent and hugged her curves a little more than she was comfortable with, but Evan had picked it out and insisted she wear it for him. Oh, she was wearing it in his honor all right. And she was going to do what any man would do when they discovered their lover was cheating on them: look for a hookup to ease the pain. And she knew just who she was going to tap.

  nstead, she sat alone in the quiet bar and drank. Shots. Of Patron. Four shots in, the bar began to fill. The cops were back, and as each one walked past her they gave her an appreciative glance. But not one of them stopped. Did she have an anthrax warning sign stamped on her forehead? Was her pathetic need for attention that obvious?

  She sank into her chair. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t a casual sex kind of girl, no matter how good last night was before Evan dropped his bomb. Coming down here and drinking was a bad idea. She should stop right now and go back to her room. She had an early afternoon flight back to San Francisco the next day and had yet to pack.

  “I thought you were done with men?” a familiar deep voice asked beside her. Katy’s heart rate quickened and her womb tightened. Yeah, well, her head might be over men but her body obviously wasn’t.

  She looked up into two of the sexiest eyes she had ever seen and shrugged. “I am, I was just thirsty.”

  He pulled out the chair beside her and asked, “May I?”

  Rolling her eyes, she nodded.

  As he settled his long body into the chair, he pointed to the empty glasses on the table. “I can see you are thirsty. Four shots of tequila should quench it.”

  When the server came by, Katy pointed to her empty glasses. “Another Patron please, make it a double.”

  Green Eyes scowled but didn’t say a word except, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

  Katy giggled as she thought of the When Harry Met Sally deli scene with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal.

  “You know,” he said, leaning toward her. His breath was warm and smelled like dark chocolate mint. “Drinking by yourself in a bar full of horny cops isn’t a very good idea.”

  She sipped the last of her current drink and looked him straight in the eye. He was damn good looking even with the little scar on the edge of his chin. His eyes were his best feature. Deep green and expressive. His lips were
a close second. Wide and full and, sigh, soft. His hair was a thick dark brown with natural gold streaked through it. It was stylishly cut, with just a wisp of bangs dropping down his forehead.

  “Hey?” He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. “Earth to Hot Lips.”

  She blinked suddenly, remembering his statement, and said, “Why is that? Will one of them put the moves on me? Tell me how hot I am, how they’ve been looking for me all their life and if I just go upstairs to their room with them, they’ll show me a good time?”

  His lips twitched, and he nodded.

  “Did it ever occur to you that that’s exactly why I’m down here drinking alone? And yet—” She looked up at the group of men who eyed them. “Not one of them has come by to test the waters.” She slumped back in the chair. “Did you tell them—about last night?” Her cheeks flamed hot.

  “You insult my chivalry, Madame. A gentleman does not discuss his exploits with other men.”

  “Not even a threesome?”

  His lips quirked and he scolded. “Especially not that. Not with you involved, anyway.”

  “Then I must have a Do Not Disturb sign on my forehead.”

  Their drinks arrived and Katy grabbed her glass and raised it to his. “Here’s to not getting any.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I warned them off. Otherwise they’ve be all over you.”

  “You what? Why?”

  “Because you’re too vulnerable at the moment.”

  “Oh? And who made you the boss of me?”

  “I did.”

  “I officially relinquish you of your duties.” She threw her drink back and slowly stood. The room tilted, then righted, before tilting the other way.

  He stood and steadied her. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to that douche bag’s room and telling him off.”

  “That probably isn’t a good idea, considering how many drinks you’ve had.”

  She yanked her arm from his hand. “You’re not the boss of me.” She moved past him and nearly tripped over his feet. “Damn big feet get out of my way.” She giggled. “To go with a damn big cock.” She spun around and smiled at him, then pointed to his crotch. “Including you last night, I’ve been with four guys and you totally win the biggest and bestest cock award.”

  He grinned, and slid an arm around her waist.

  “Hey, what’er you doing?” she asked, wanting to pull away, but her body melted into his warmth. Damn traitorous body.

  “Helping you to douche bag’s room so you can tell him off.”

  “Oh, okay. I’d appreciate that.”

  As they made their way to the elevator, the tequila really started to kick in. “Did you know,” she started, “I discovered a new gene mutation that flags breast cancer?” It was important to her that he knew she was an intelligent woman and not some floozy barfly.

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “There are already two that have been identified, but I developed a new process that reveals the third and this one has a higher detection rate.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “Yup.” The elevator door opened and he guided her in. As she turned, the floor tilted. She grabbed on to hot cop. “Are you a cop?”

  “Yup.”

  “Can I see your gun?” she snickered.

  “Not in public.”

  When the car didn’t move, she said, “Douche bag’s in room 3672.”

  As they exited the car on Evan’s floor, Katy stood unsure for a minute. “This could get ugly. You should wait here.”

  “If it gets ugly, you’ll need a cop. I’ll go with you.”

  “’Kay.” She stumbled to the end of the hall to Evan’s room and loudly knocked on the door. To her shock—why, after his revelation, she should be shocked she didn’t know; prolly the tequila—a blonde wearing one of Evan’s dress shirts opened it.

  “Can I help you?” she asked curiously.

  “Who is it, babe?” Evan called from the shower.

  “We’re sorry,” Hot cop said, collecting Katy. “Wrong room.”

  He whisked her around and into his arms just as the shock of seeing another woman in Evan’s room kicked in. “Hey, if you’re his wife,” Katy yelled at the top of her lungs, “He fucked me last night!”

  “Quiet,” Hot Cop half-laughed, half-scolded. “Or you’re going to get us kicked out of here.”

  She didn’t care. As she hung in his arms she started to sob. “I’m such an idiot!”

  “He’s the idiot.”

  “Ugh, I don’t feel good.”

  “Have you eaten today?”

  “No, I wasn’t hungry.” And the thought of food made her stomach churn.

  He strode with her in his arms past the elevator. “Hey, you passed the elevator,” she slurred, looking over his wide shoulders at it.

  Continuing down the hall to the last room on the right, he slid his key card in the slot and opened the door with his foot, kicked it shut, locked it, then walked into the room. It was larger than hers: a suite.

  Carefully he set her down on the bed. “You need to eat, and you need to sleep off the booze.”

  “But I have a plane to catch tomorrow.”

  “Fine, so do as I say and you’ll make it.”

  He dialed room service and ordered half of the menu. As he did she laid back on the bed and stared at him. “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  She held out her unsteady hand. “Hi, I’m Katrina, my friends and ex-douche-bag-lovers call me Katy. I’m not married and never will be.”

  He grinned and took her hand, wrapping it in his big warm one. “Hi, Kat, I’m Simon, and in my line of work I learned a long time ago to keep my options open.”

  Katy warmed at the pet name. No one had ever called her Kat before. She liked how it sounded all sex-kittenish when he said it. But she pulled her hand from his, because she liked just about everything about Simon. She was over men for now. Thank God he had taken her out of the bar when he did.

  “I need to get back to my room.”

  “Eat something first, then I’ll walk you back.”

  Fair enough. Besides, she didn’t think she could get up.

  Unexpected tears leaked from her eyes.

  “Don’t cry over him, Kat. He’s not worth it.”

  “I wasn’t worth it,” she sniffed and wiped her sleeve across her runny nose. She sniffed again and hiccoughed. “I never am.”

  He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, took her chin in his hand, and scowled at her. “That’s a crock of bullshit. Don’t say that again.”

  “Since I’ll never see you again, I can promise you that.”

  His lips turned up into a naughty smile. “Maybe.”

  She grabbed his hand and wiped her nose across the back of it. It took her inebriated brain a minute to realize what she had just done. Her eyes widened, and then narrowed when two of him shimmered before her. She blinked. “I’m sorry, that was gross.”

  “That’s two to one. I owe you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His lips turned into a wolfish smile. “You think about it.” He stood up and said, “Relax until the food arrives.” As he said the words he slid his cell phone from his pocket and just as he was about to shuck his suit jacket there was a knock at the door.

  oom service.”

  Katy watched him walk past her to the door and even in her drunken state found it hard to drag her eyes off him. He moved like a big panther. Lethal grace. She sighed and closed her eyes. A mistake; the room spun. She opened her eyes, struggling to sit up. The minute the waiter uncovered the food and the aroma hit her nostrils, she bolted for what she sure hoped was the bathroom.

  Skidding to a halt on her knees, she heaved just before she got to the toilet. It went everywhere, including all over her, but she didn’t care. She pulled herself up and hugged the porcelain goddess, finding the cool smoothness of the commode soothing to her sweaty warm skin.

  Shielded by
her wild mass of hair, she puked again and again, eyes closed, feeling as if she were at death’s door. Her hair magically lifted from around her and a cool wet cloth wrapped around the back of her neck.

  “Go away,” she muttered. “I—” She fought for control. “Don’t—” Her stomach convulsed as it tried to eject what was left in it. “Want—you—to see—” She lost the fight and vomited again. Gasping for breath, she wiped her mouth on the rim of the toilet. “Like this …” God, she felt horrible.

  She closed her eyes, praying for a quick death. “Please,” she begged. “Just go away.”

  When she heard the door close, she let out a sigh of relief. Until the stench of her puke assaulted her nostrils, causing her stomach to roil again. She turned her throbbing head toward the big walk-in shower. With a military crawl she dragged herself to the open stall, and somehow managed to reach the taps in the corner and turn the water on. Under the hot spray, she leaned back against the marble tile, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and cried.

  And cried.

  Two strong arms pulled her into a warm, wet embrace, and she cried harder. When a large hand pressed her head to his chest and he murmured soft comforting words to her, she cried so hard her chest burned.

  She didn’t care when she wiped her nose across his soaked linen shirt. She didn’t care when she found herself clinging to him as if he were her only lifeline in her ocean of angst. She didn’t care that she was making a colossal fool out of herself. She just wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

  He stroked her drenched hair. “Don’t cry for him, Kat, he’s not worth it.”

  She cried harder. He didn’t understand. “You don’t understand,” she wailed. “I—I trusted him with—with my feelings and my body!” She choked back tears, her throat raw from the booze, puking, and crying. “He dared me to—to—you know, and I was afraid if I didn’t, he would leave me, but when I did, he lost respect for me anyway, and the being married thing was a deal breaker, but even if he wasn’t married he would have dumped me.” She looked up through blurry eyes into his calm ones. His long black lashes were spiked from the water, and she pulled away. “You’re dressed!”