Caught him too late. Fucking Feds caught him after all the money was gone. Drew’s gut clenched at the memory of silent tears streaming down his grandma’s face when they went to the bank together. When he’d clutched her hand, guilt-wracked for the money she’d spent on his athletic training and travel. Regretting like crazy the month he’d bummed around Europe after the Games, bankrolled by his proud grandma. If he’d come back sooner, she’d at least have a few thousand more in her bank account now. Or would Lewinsky have drained that, too?
“My grandmother used him for years. Turns out, he was the one using her. She lost most of her savings. Payments hadn’t been made on the house in months. Her debts were staggering. The bank’s going to foreclose if she can’t make a payment—a significant payment—within a month.”
“That’s why you took the job at Game Domain.”
“It tipped the scales. I knew I had to find a company big enough to help me bring Quest to life. I’d been shopping some smaller firms that didn’t offer as big a salary. Places that were a better fit. But when I found out about Grandma, the cash became more important.”
“You didn’t want to go corporate, did you?”
“Answering to people like Keiko was never my dream. But the job’s turned out to be a lot better than I hoped. Not that it matters. I would’ve done anything to scrape up the cash to help Grandma. Flip burgers, if it paid enough. Work three jobs.” Drew realized his hands had clenched into fists. He forcibly flattened them onto the table.
“She’s always been there for me. Supported me. Made me feel like I was good enough. That’s why I have to go to New York and rock the hell out of those interviews. Not just to start the buzz about Quest. I need that bonus. It’s the only way to save her house.”
The sound of Tabitha’s chair scraping over the stone floor echoed off the walls of the nearly empty room. Out of polite habit deeply ingrained by his grandmother, Drew stood as well. The music swelled. Andrea Bocelli, who he recognized from the closing ceremonies of the Summer Games, milked a note for every poignant tremor he could squeeze out of it.
Tabitha tossed her napkin onto the table. Crossed the two steps to him in shiny red heels that brought the top of her head level with his chin. Then she framed his face with both hands. “Drew Weston, you are a remarkable man.” Tabitha pressed her lips to his. Soft. Light. Warm.
Her move shocked the hell out of Drew. But it gave him the opening he’d hoped for since the moment he ran into her. One he never thought he’d get with the enchanting woman so many light years out of his league. So he damn well wouldn’t waste the opportunity.
Drew curled one hand around the creamy, slender column of her neck. Wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her flush against his body. It also brought a startled gasp out of Tabitha. He caught it with his own lips, smiled, and took charge, deepening the kiss. Firmly learning the shape and fullness of her mouth. Tasting the wine’s tang from her lips was so much more delicious than from a cold glass.
She was far from cold. Tabitha burned him up, lighting a fire everywhere they touched. But instead of flicking outward, it leapt inward, sending licks of desire through his entire body. Drew spread his fingers wide across the small of her back. He wanted to optimize the amount of her he touched. Imprinted with his heat, his need, his want.
On a moan, her hands slid up his face to run through his hair. Then she linked her wrists behind Drew’s head. The motion rubbed her breasts against his chest. Between her dress, his shirt and the stupid vest, all he got was an impression of their shape. A reminder that there was so much of her knockout body still to explore. Not that he needed a reminder. Not with his fingers brushing the taut swell of her ass. Not with his thighs wide, bracketing her rounded hips. And his fully hard dick straining against her stomach.
A crash from the hallway indicated some waiter had just lost a night’s tips worth of glassware. The noise jolted Drew back to the reality of their location. Backing Tabitha against the terra cotta wall to anchor her while he plundered her mouth—what he wanted more than anything right now—just wasn’t practical. So he eased back. Loosened his grip on her waist to a caress. Slid his hand around to twine a single loose tendril around his finger as he stroked it down her cheek.
Lust had scrambled his brain. Drew couldn’t think of a good segue. “Dinner’s getting cold,” he said. Watched her eyes slowly flutter open. Saw them come into focus, and then watched her pupils contract to a pinpoint as she rounded her eyes into wide circles. Crap. He should say something nicer. Tell her that he’d rather nibble on her than on the pasta. “Tabitha, you’re—”
She cut him off. First with a fast, upward skip of her eyebrow. Then with a finger across his lips. “I’m glad to know Ivy’s quality control is so excellent. She’s right. You are a phenomenal kisser.”
Drew let his arms drop to his sides. Suddenly the last thing he wanted to do was touch her. Did Tabitha throw herself onto his lips as a test? “What? Are you beta testing me as a potential Match-n-Mingle client? This whole thing was just to find out if my moves were good enough?”
“To be good in business, you can’t always accept other people’s findings.” She tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Sometimes it pays to do the research yourself.”
Ice cold anger at being toyed with froze out the heat from only moments before. It mixed with disgust at the fact he bothered to take the long shot. Drew should’ve known it wouldn’t work. Tabitha might talk a good game. But bottom line? She didn’t want to be with a gaming geek. Of course she didn’t. Why would she be any different from all the other beautiful women?
The ones in high school who sneered in computer class every time his hand shot up. The ones in college who walked an extra-wide circle to avoid Drew and his friends circled to play Risk at lunch on the quad. The women in bars who heard he made video games and immediately left without another word. Yeah. The sinfully beautiful Tabitha Bell was no different at all.
“You didn’t need to lie. Build me up with all those compliments. Waste your money on the fancy dinner.” He edged closer again. Didn’t touch her, but pointedly ran his eyes up and down the length of her body. “I’d have kissed a hot chick like you for a hot dog with the works from a street cart.”
Tabitha sucked in a sharp breath. Grabbed for her water glass. But Drew was ready. Hell, he’d been half-braced for it all night. He caught her wrist before she could toss it in his face. It wavered in her grasp, sloshing a little water on the floor between them.
“How dare you?” she hissed. “All I was trying to do was save face. To laugh off the kiss before you did.”
Her unexpected statement jolted him. “Why the hell would you think I’d do that?”
At the obvious confusion in his voice, Tabitha stopped fighting him. “Because…I just told you my story. Revealed my deep, dark not-so-secret past. Most men, after hearing it, try to steal a kiss. They want to see what sort of Kama Sutra-type knowledge I picked up living at the Tailfeather. When I stop them after just a kiss, they leave. It always happens.”
The glaring hole in her logic had to be addressed. Drew set down her glass, then took both her hands. “But Tabitha, you kissed me. You made the first move. Not me.”
Her lips parted. She blinked slowly a few times. Then shook her head. “Oh. You’re right. I guess you turned my head with that doozy of a kiss. When you stopped, I went on auto-pilot.”
“I stopped because our waiter could walk in at any minute.” Dropping her hands, he pulled her back into an embrace. Could she really be that insecure? That unaware of her breathtaking looks? Her dazzling personality? “I stopped because you’re an amazing woman who deserves better than a quick screw against a bathroom wall. And we were headed in that direction pretty damn fast.”
“Really? I turned you on that much? From just a kiss?” She looked oddly smug.
Why would she look smug? A shocking thought occurred to Drew. He settled them back into their seats. “Tabitha, you’re not a virg
in, are you?”
“No.” Her grip on his hand locked on twice as tight. “Before you run out the door in horrified fear, absolutely not. But I’m not exactly rolling in experience, either. Like I said, guys tend to walk once I don’t promise to deliver the ride of their lives.”
“So you’re a grade-A matchmaker for everyone except yourself?” It didn’t make sense. It didn’t seem fair that a stunner like Tabitha wouldn’t be snapped up in a nano-second.
“Not for lack of trying, but yes. My dating track record’s been tainted by Mom’s career.” A grimace twisted the lips still puffy from his kisses. Tabitha eased back, and forked up a bite of pasta that didn’t make it to her mouth. “By the fact that when I go home for Christmas, my bedroom window overlooks the parking lot of the Tailfeather. Men aren’t wild about me keeping in touch with Mom’s employees, either. But I won’t turn my back on lifelong friends just because we disagree on their career track.”
The obvious solution came to Drew in a flash. “Why not lie? Just keep your background a secret?”
Tabitha gave a headshake so strong it dislodged a bobby pin that pinged onto the floor. “I want a man who wants to be with me. The real me. Not a white-washed, light-on-details version. And I don’t want a man who’s constantly hoping I’ll suggest an orgy, or reveal the secret door to my sex dungeon.” As she bent over to pick up her bobby pin, her voice was slightly muffled by the long white tablecloth. “I want a man who’ll be content to spend a Friday night with a glass of wine, on the couch, playing Trolls Under Tribeca with me, for example.”
Did that mean Tabitha told him everything because she saw him as a potential date? Or that she never hid it from anyone? Did it mean Drew was about to grow breasts if he wondered just what their kiss meant? Probably. Better not analyze it. He took a bite. This dinner included the best wine he’d ever tasted, food so good it rolled his eyes back in his head, and a kiss for the record books. Best to leave it lumped together like that. One night of off-the-hook greatness.
Chapter Six
“The thing I like about these trial runs?” Drew picked up a slider, loaded with bacon and barbecue sauce. Saw another topped with mushrooms and swiss. Next to those, a row of colorful—and iconic—Chicago hot dogs smothered in relish, tomato wedges, pickle spears and mustard. Enough to feed a half dozen people. “You’re feeding me. Feeding me well.”
Tabitha dug tongs into an ice bucket. “Would you believe I’m attempting to inspire a Pavlovian reaction?”
“What?” He downed half of the slider in one bite. That was, after all, the joy of sliders. Cramming them into your mouth like a caveman. “Am I supposed to connect good food with being comfortable around women from now on? ’Cause I had a delicious Italian beef sandwich for lunch yesterday.” He rubbed his belly. That bad boy hadn’t sat well at all. Drew wouldn’t buy from the corner food truck again anytime soon. “Made me pretty uncomfortable. And I sure wasn’t thinking about women.”
She held up both hands. The ruffles at the wrists of her grey sweater gaped backward almost to her elbow. “Stop the story right there. I don’t need details. And I can’t afford to deliver takeout whenever you get fidgety around a woman. The food’s because we’re having a party.”
Drew looked around the private shopping room. Outside the mirrored area was the men’s department of Macy’s. If he peeked through the doorway, he could glimpse the wrought iron balconies that climbed across all twelve floors. Sure, it was fancy and big. But not what he’d call a hot party spot.
“What, the dry cleaners on the corner was already booked?” he joked.
Tabitha narrowed her eyes to thin, green slits. They glowed like the horizontal light on the swipe card and security panel at Game Domain. The triple redundancy system might be considered overkill by some. But since it protected Drew’s new game, he didn’t resent one bit all the tedious swiping and manual codes and fingerprint verification.
“Macy’s State Street is the second largest department store in the world. The ceiling on the fifth floor was installed in 1907, and is Tiffany favrile glass. This store,” Tabitha spun in a slow circle, arms wide, “is an iconic piece of Chicago history. Ergo, a perfect party spot.”
“For girls, sure. Not for a manly man.” Drew flexed his biceps. Just to test the waters. Just to see if two nights ago had been a one-shot deal. Tabitha’s eyes locked onto his arm. He wore a T-shirt printed with suspenders, bow tie and pocket protector. Drew thought it’d make her laugh.
But she wasn’t laughing now. No, her lips parted for her tongue to slip out and moisten them. Her breasts rose and fell beneath a deep vee of ruffles. God, that sweater. Its wide, ruffled collar exposed so much milk-white skin. Including a tantalizing flash of smooth belly between the sweater’s shorter front and her jeans. The longer ruffles on the side of the sweater cascaded down her thighs almost to her knees. Drew wanted to lift it up and peek at her ass in those skintight jeans. And judging from her entranced stare, Tabitha wouldn’t object.
He’d take it slow. See how the night progressed. But it sure looked to him like Tabitha would be willing to end the night with more kisses. Drew didn’t intend to disappoint. “Tell me about this party.”
“My friend Ashley manages the personal shopping department here. She swung us this private room for the whole night. We’re just waiting for one last customer to clear out.” Tabitha walked to the door and braced her hands high on the frame to stare across the racks of suits. “Everyone should be here soon.”
In the gaming world, good timing was the difference between life and death. Between a zombie jumping from a tree to bite a chunk out of your shoulder, or aiming an anhydrous pellet gun at them to suck all the liquid from their rotting flesh. Good timing was a byproduct of experience and an almost preternatural sense. And Drew had a great sense of timing. He knew this was his chance. No waiting for the end of the night. No, he’d claim her again now. Give her something to think about, with flushed cheeks and lust-brightened eyes, the entire night.
Drew moved behind her. Brought his legs flush against hers, chest tight to her back. Looped his arms around her waist. Then dropped his head to lay a kiss on the visibly pounding pulse on the side of her neck. Tabitha softened into him like butter on a hot day.
“How’s tricks, Tabitha? Turn any lately?” A tall man shrugging into a suit jacket walked into view. “Oh, that’s right. You talk a good game, but don’t put out.” He shaped his thumb and forefinger into a gun and pointed at Drew. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the heads-up.”
Drew’s first instinct was to shove his fist right past Tabitha’s ear and into the dickwad’s face. An insult like that to any woman was grounds enough. Trash-talking a woman Drew wanted to kiss definitely meant this guy deserved a world of hurt. But starting a fist fight in the middle of an iconic store—yeah, he paid attention—would probably get him kicked out. And tick off the very woman whose honor he wanted to avenge. Better check Tabitha’s response first.
Tabitha stiffened, but held her pose. “Philip Tolliver. What a surprise running into you here.” The U.S. luge team could’ve used her voice as a practice run, it was so frosty and smooth.
“Had to pick up a few things from my personal shopper. My new office is right around the corner.” He meticulously straightened his tie. “Although now that I know the type of clientele which frequents Macy’s, I might shift my business over to Saks or Neimans.”
Damn, he wanted to belt this guy. Drew started to step back and do just that, but Tabitha put a hand on his wrist, holding him in place. He could take a hint. For now. But Drew couldn’t promise how much longer he’d be able to hold back from knocking the smirk right off ol’ Phil’s face.
“Philip. It’s been almost a year.” Tabitha now sounded conciliatory. Drew couldn’t figure out why she’d bother. Clearly affording a perfect haircut and designer suit didn’t mean Phil had figured out where to buy some manners. “Why hold a grudge over ending a relationship that didn’t work for either of us?”
“Take a poll, Tabitha. Nobody likes a tease,” he spat. “I can be mad as long as I damn well please.”
“Fair enough.” Her voice was still even, but Tabitha’s nails dug into Drew’s wrist. “I’m sorry I hurt you. If you haven’t moved on already, let me help. I’m a full-time matchmaker now. I’m having an event in a few days. Lot of wonderful women will attend. Why don’t you come, too? My treat, of course.”
“Oh, I know all about your so-called event. I heard an ad for the live video podcast. Way I see it?” He sneered at her down the nose Drew itched to break. “Your job’s no different than your mom’s. You both spend the night pimping out women to a room full of men.”
Tabitha jerked backward, as if the cruel words had actually pierced her stomach. Enough was enough. Drew patted her on the arm, then eased past her. He ambled forward, hands in pockets, totally non-threatening.
“Phil? I’m Drew Weston. Let me pay you back for the heads-up you gave me earlier with a little designer fashion tip.” He hinged forward from the hips, as if passing rail-side info on the hottest horses at the track. “When you go to Saks, be sure to ask them for extra stuffing.”
“Is this a new trend? For where, exactly?”
“In the crotch.” Drew straightened up to his full six feet, two inches. Noticed smugly that he could look down on the top of Phil’s head. Let his arms dangle at his sides, fists tight and cocked. “Cause you’ve gotta have a pencil dick and no balls at all to be such a crude asswipe to Tabitha. Apologize to her. Then get the hell out.”
A grimace twisted across Phil’s face. But then he took a step back. Looked at Drew, and the utter determination and loathing that had to be showing in his eyes. And took another step back. “My mouth got a head start on my brain. Sorry. Good luck with your event.” Then he turned tail and broke into a trot straight to the escalator.
The sound of clapping startled Drew into a half spin. To his right, behind the check-out desk, stood three women. And Milo, who rushed over to give Drew a one-armed, back-slap hug.
A Matchless Romance Page 9
