“Because I know the words come from here.” Calder placed her hand on Adam’s chest, directly over his heart. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be such an easy mark.”
Dee watched her friends, an indulgent smile on her lips.
“What about the two of you? When will you finally say I do?”
“We’ll get there.” Adam brushed a kiss across Calder’s cheek before he turned his gaze to Dee. “We fell in love so quickly; the rest can wait—for a little while.”
Sounded reasonable to Dee.
“And Destry? Has she changed her mind?”
“Destry is adamant. No wedding for her and Liam. Ever.” Calder gave a resigned shrug. “Her life, her choice. I’d worry if she weren’t so steady and together. Or, if I doubted Liam’s commitment. They glow—literally beam—from every pore whenever they’re in the same room.”
Calder didn’t exaggerate—much. A running joke, Dee teasingly pulled out a pair of sunglasses when she came to visit. Luckily, Destry and Liam had a good sense of humor. Or, they were so in love, they didn’t care. Dee would wager on a combination of the two.
“I admire your ability to change the subject.” A knowing twinkle entered Calder’s dark eyes. “But I haven’t forgotten.”
“What was the subject?” Chuckling, Adam tapped his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Oh, right. Lincoln James. Should I tell him to aim his laser stare elsewhere?”
“Tell him I’m old enough to be his mother,” Dee muttered, only half-joking. “He probably likes his women pliable. At my age, I have no more give left in me.”
“Obviously, Linc likes what he sees. Besides, what do a few years matter? Can’t be more than four, maybe five?” Calder brushed off the idea. “If he were older by a decade or two, no one would raise a brow.”
Dee didn’t give flying fig one way or the other. In her book, one birthday was just like the next. In her forties, top to bottom, inside and out, she was better today than twenty years ago. She liked herself, she liked her life, something she couldn’t say when she was eighteen.
What Dee needed was an excuse, a graceful out from the uncomfortable subject. The younger man, older woman taboo was just the ticket. “Do you think Lincoln James would be copacetic if he knew my age?”
“If the last look he sent your way is any indication? I don’t think he’d give a flying leap.” Calder fanned her face with her bag. “Hot, hot, hot.”
“Seriously, Dee,” Adam sobered. “I’ll warn him off. Just give me the word.”
Adam was a good friend. One of her oldest. They met in the Navy around the time he entered the service, and she was on her way out. When they reconnected years later, their shared military experience gave them a solid foundation to build upon as civilians. She trusted him—a fact she couldn’t say about many people.
“Thanks, but no.” Dee could handle Mr. Lincoln James. However, she did need one piece of information to guide how she proceeded. “Who’s his date?”
“Linc came stag.”
“Really?” Calder’s expression showed her surprise.
“Unusual, I admit,” Adam shrugged. “But not unheard of.”
“Right,” Calder snorted, unconvinced.
Dee remained silent during the exchange as she grudgingly readjusted one of her preconceptions. New Year’s Eve? A big, splashy Park Avenue party? Made sense to assume Lincoln would bring a date. When she caught him staring—flirting—she automatically tossed him into the pile she reserved for the kind of man who came with one woman then, proceeded to ignore her in favor of the first sparkly new object to catch his easily distracted libido.
Dee wasn’t an object—sparkly, or otherwise. She was able to admit when she made an error in judgment. Until now, she assumed the worst and why not? Though her research was understandably incomplete, by all accounts, the man was a player—on and off the tennis court.
Though she still wasn’t interested, Dee was able to admit her error in judgment—on one thing—where Lincoln James was concerned.
“I have a question,” Calder said as she took a red tube from the pocket of Adam’s jacket. She dabbed a bit of gloss on her lips as her gaze met Dee’s. “Don’t bite my head off.”
“No guarantees.” Dee refused to make a promise she might not be able to keep.
“You’re a stunningly beautiful woman.”
“True,” Adam nodded.
Dee chuckled. Friends, bless them. They often embellished the truth or saw what wasn’t there. She had no illusions about her looks. She was blessed with a healthy body, one she worked to keep strong and limber. Tall, good legs, nice boobs. Her face was interesting more than beautiful. Still, she was human enough to appreciate a compliment.
“Thank you.” Dee gave her empty glass to a passing waitress. “I didn’t hear a question.”
“Men tend to stare at beautiful women,” Calder continued. “Part of their DNA.”
“Very true,” Adam said without a trace of repentance.
“You’ve been stared at before. You’ll be stared at again.” Calder raised an eyebrow. “Why are you so hot and bothered this time? What makes Lincoln James different?”
Good question. Dee wished she had an answer to match.
“Well?” Adam prompted.
“He makes me… twitchy.”
The second the admission traveled past Dee’s lips, she knew her mistake. Give Calder an opening, even a microscopic inch, and she jumped with gleeful enthusiasm.
“Ah,” Calder crowed. “Twitchy is code for interested.”
“No.” Dee shook her head. “Twitchy means annoyed.”
“Adam annoyed me a lot when we first met.”
“Did I?” Adam looked pleased.
“Want to know the solution?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Dee and Adam spoke in unison. Both were emphatic. Of course, Calder chose to answer her fiancé.
“Sex.”
“Since when do a few heated looks add up to sex?” Though Dee couldn’t say the idea turned her stomach. “I’m not a prude, but I prefer to exchange a few sentences with a man before I see him naked, and vice versa.”
“Wanting isn’t doing. Although…” Grinning, Calder shook off the idea. “I had in mind something less invasive.”
“Invasive? Geez, you give sex a whole new spin. Not a good one.”
“Bad choice of word,” Calder admitted. “For the moment, take sex off the table. Think kiss, not copulation. A smooch to welcome the new year.”
“Lincoln James is a stranger. And, sorry to disappoint you, I’d rather he stayed one.”
Dee turned to leave, but not before Calder got in a few last words.
“One hour to midnight. Plenty of time for you and Linc to break the ice before you melt it.”
Melt the ice? Oh, brother. Dee didn’t know if she should laugh or groan. With considerable effort, she did neither. Just in case she was inclined to give in to temptation, she headed toward the sitting room, as far away from Lincoln James as possible.
CHAPTER TWO
~~~~
ENJOYING THE VIEW, Lincoln James chuckled to himself. He didn’t know who the woman was, but the second she entered the Benedict mansion, she caught his eye. And, if the withering looks sent his way were any indication, finding herself the center of his attention didn’t make the dark-haired beauty happy.
At first, to his credit, Linc tried not to stare. His mother, bless her heart, instilled her son with basic manners. According to Trina James, the world needs as many gentlemen as possible, and she was determined her son would be one of them.
For the most part, Lincoln liked to think his mother succeeded. But what was a man to do when presented with so much wonder? After a bit, he gave in and enjoyed the view.
Linc never understood the term striking when related to a person’s looks. Until now. The woman was spectacular. And yes, every time he glanced her way, he was struck—right between
the eyes. Though he wanted a closer look—at her amazing face, at the colorful tattoos that ran up her long, shapely legs and under the hem of her scarlet-red, knee-length dress. Certain he would get his chance, he was content to wait.
Was he arrogant to a fault? Hard to argue the claim. Linc was a world-class athlete at the top of his game. A bit of arrogance came with the territory.
In his youth, Linc was known more for his hot-headed on-court tantrums and off-court sexual conquests than anything else. He always had the talent. However, if he hadn’t learned to channel his aggression toward winning, like so many wunderkind tennis phenoms who’d burst on the scene before him, he would have faded to obscurity, a barely remembered footnote.
Linc was a success for one reason and one reason only. He never gave up. Not on himself, or on something, or someone, he deemed worth having.
At first, Linc didn’t know how he felt about the woman. Intrigued? Absolutely. Anything more? He decided to hold back, wait, and see if the tug of interest turned into a full-on, impossible to ignore, gravitational pull.
Patience, hard earned, was one of Linc’s few virtues. However, when everything in the woman’s hostile gaze screamed fuck off, he knew all bets were off. She was everything he couldn’t resist. Beautiful. Sexy. And, best of all, a challenge.
“Wipe the drool off your chin, my friend. She’s off limits.”
“Hello, Adam.” Linc shook the other man’s hand. “Nice shindig.”
“None of my doing. I just put on a tie and show up.”
“Best kind of party. One hundred percent fun, zero percent headache.”
With a half-smile, Adam handed Linc a glass.
“In case I don’t see you at the time. Happy New Year.”
Linc savored his one drink of the night, swirling the aged-to-perfection, single-malt whiskey in his mouth before he let the liquor bathe his throat with a welcome heat. Of the many things he liked about Adam Stone, high on the list was the man’s taste in the finer things in life. From the clothes on his back, to the alcohol he drank, to the woman he loved, Adam filled his life with only the best.
“Who is she?” When Adam hesitated, Linc shook his head. “No harm in sharing a name.”
“Dee Wakefield.” Adam’s gaze narrowed, the warning in his eyes clear. “I meant what I said, Linc. Hands off.”
“Is she married?” Even Linc with his occasionally dodgy morals had a line he never knowingly crossed.
“No.”
“Seriously involved?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll take your prevarication as a no.” Better and better, Linc thought, mentally rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Did she ask you to warn me off?”
“Dee?” Adam snorted. “Hardly. She’s an ex-Navy hard-ass P.I. with a black belt in karate. She carries a gun, by the way. And isn’t shy about pulling the trigger.”
Linc pretended to ponder Adam’s warning. In truth, he wanted to grin. Rather than put off, he wanted to know more. But from the woman herself, not secondhand.
“If you can give me one solid reason I shouldn’t ask her out, I won’t.”
“She isn’t interested.”
“Fair enough,” Linc nodded. “If the lady tells me no, I’ll back off.”
“She’s older.”
When Adam winced, Linc didn’t blame him. Throwing around a woman’s age was a no-no. Still, the information gave him pause.
“How much older?”
“Dee’s forty-two.”
“Good Lord,” Linc chuckled, relieved. “The way you presented the news, I expected you to tell me she looks so fine because she dipped herself in formaldehyde. I appreciate a well-preserved woman, but even I have my limits. Forty-two is nothing. A mere drop in the evolutionary bucket.”
“Shit.” Adam rubbed his neck, a sheepish look in his eyes. “If you tell Calder I mentioned Dee’s age, I will kick your ass.”
“You can try.”
While Linc’s friend kept himself in tip-top shape, for all his bravado, in a one-on-one fight, he couldn’t say who would come out on top. Adam’s sigh said the same.
“I would try. Not that Dee would thank me. In fact, if I won, she’d be right there to finish what you couldn’t.” When Linc grinned, Adam rolled his eyes. “Great. You’re more interested than when I started.”
Bold as ever, Linc watched Dee take a sip of her champagne and imagined the taste of her lips combined with the wine. Just the thought of the kiss sent a heady zing of intoxication through his veins.
“Gorgeous and can take down a man twice her weight? How can I resist?”
“You could try.”
Linc was confused by Adam’s persistence.
“We’re both adults. Single, unattached. You claim Dee can take care of herself. What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” Adam assured him, though the frown between his brows told a different story. “Dee’s a good friend.”
“Then, you should want her to have the best.”
“Someday, a woman is going to let the air out of your ego,” Adam warned as his lips curved into an evil smile. “I can’t wait.”
“Not everyone is destined to fall in love, my friend.”
“I felt the same—until I met Calder. The right woman can change your outlook in a flash.”
“Maybe so.” Linc wasn’t convinced. “I don’t have the time or desire for a wife—or a steady girlfriend.”
“Then do as I asked. Leave Dee alone. She deserves better than a one-night stand.”
“Who said anything about one night?” Linc chuckled. “Either way, shouldn’t she be the one to decide?”
“You’re right.” Adam finished his drink. “One last thing, then I’ll keep my peace.”
“Promise?”
Adam didn’t smile as Linc expected. Instead, his expression grew deadly serious.
“Dee is one of the most together people I’ve ever met. She knows who she is and what she wants. Just remember. Under the layer of steel is still a flesh and blood woman. Take care, Linc. She isn’t your usual type.”
“I have a type?”
This time, Adam laughed—hard.
“Google yourself. Check out the pics of your dates. The results will open your eyes, my friend.”
Something else was afoot, Linc decided as he watched Adam blend into the crowd, greeting guests as he went. Something he didn’t want to know about. He liked his relationships light and drama free. No strings, no expectations, no heavy conversations about the past or the future. If Dee Wakefield had secrets—and who didn’t—she was welcome to keep them to herself.
From afar, she fascinated him more than any woman he could remember in a very long time. Linc had a feeling she would be just as interesting up close and personal. Question was, with Adam’s warning fresh in his mind, did he want to risk alienation of a good friend for what was bound to be nothing more than a minor, if enjoyable, dalliance?
The evening had taken an odd turn, from light-hearted to contemplative. Should he approach Dee or, go against every instinct, and walk away?
Linc chuckled, at himself and the situation. Through hard work, he learned impulse control—during a tennis match. Off the court, he didn’t see the need.
Had he overthought the problem, Linc wondered. Probably. He raised his glass to his mouth, stopping before the amber liquid passed his lips. Deliberately, he set aside his unfinished drink.
One thing was certain. To figure out his next move—go forward or hold back—a clear head was imperative.
Linc’s gaze fell on the whiskey and shrugged. What the hell. He knew himself too well. Never one to let a trickle of conscience get in the way of a good time, he saw no reason to start now. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed back what was left in the glass, knowing he would have to do without in the foreseeable future.
While he could easily do without alcohol, women were a pleasure he refused to deny hi
mself. What Lincoln James wanted, he went after and rarely failed. Why should the beautiful Dee Wakefield be any different?
~~~~
FIVE MINUTES TO midnight. As the hum of anticipation swirled around her, Dee slipped out the French doors, away from the crowded party, onto the solitude of the deserted backyard deck. The one place she was certain she could find a little privacy.
The bite of winter hit her face, bracing and welcome. Snow covered the garden while glittering crystals of ice coated the neatly pruned, low-hanging branches of the century-old oak trees. A true winter wonderland, in her mind, Dee pictured the garden at the height of summer. Rows and rows of flowers bloomed with abandon. She didn’t know all the names, but she appreciated the rainbow of colors and their heady perfume as she walked the stone-covered pathways.
The mansion, six floors of pure luxury, and the perfectly manicured grounds weren’t her kind of place. Dee preferred something more low-key. Yet, she felt oddly at home every time she entered. The reason was simple. The Benedict sisters refused to let her feel any other way. They had become her surrogate family, closer than her own. They accepted her, embraced her, and never expected her to be something she wasn’t.
If only Dee could say the same about her parents. Or, to be more specific, her mother. Unfortunately, they couldn’t be in the same room or talk on the phone, for more than a few minutes before the disapproval of a lifetime reared its ugly head.
Dee shivered, a reminder the month was December, not July. A Christmas present designed especially for her by Andi Benedict, her dress wasn’t suited for sub-freezing temperatures. The cut was deceptively simple. Rather than cling, the lines curved around her body, complementing—in Andi’s words—Dee’s best assets, her long legs, trim waist, and buff arms.
The idea made her scoff at the time, but in truth, as she prepared for the evening, giving herself the once-over, she had to admit the dress was a winner. Another piece to her ever-growing wardrobe.
Dee hadn’t become a clothes horse since the Benedict sisters adopted her into their circle. However, her style had evolved past a steady diet of blue jeans, t-shirts, and leather jackets.
SIX DAYS Page 2
