by Lori Wilde
“Why not?”
“I want to find me before I get involved with anyone again. Besides, I’m not sure we’d be very compatible.”
“Do you want me to tell you the story of how Max and I met again?” Leigh asked, referring to her husband, who was a crown prince. Literally.
“No, I remember.”
“Just saying you might be more compatible than you originally thought.”
“I’m not even entertaining thoughts like that.”
“Don’t close yourself off to possibilities.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Do you want a tour of the house?” Leigh asked.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
For the next thirty minutes, Leigh carried her computer through her mansion, showing Jude her lavish home.
“I still can’t believe you married a prince,” Jude said.
“Hey, you never know what’s around the next corner. Don’t give up hope.” Leigh gave her a pep talk, and then they said goodbye.
For the next four hours, Jude did laundry, read a book, watched the TV program Natural Curiosities, and marveled over the competitiveness of animals. It was a nice, relaxing Sunday afternoon. She wasn’t expecting company so the door buzzer startled her, making her wonder whether to ignore it or answer.
Curiosity won out. She went to the intercom. “Who is it?”
“Tom Brunswick. May I come up?”
Her pulse quickened and her mind flew back to those sexy dreams. “Why?”
“Why not?”
“I’m still in my pajamas.”
“I don’t mind.”
I just bet you don’t.
“Please?” he said. “I’ll wait down here while you get dressed.”
“What do you want?” That sounded tacky and not the least bit like her, but her knees were already quivering at the thought of seeing him again. Especially since she’d kissed him last night like a total dumbbell.
On the cheek. It wasn’t even a real kiss. No, but her mouth had tingled for an hour afterward. Jude fingered her lips.
“I’d like to have a face-to-face conversation.” He paused. “Please.”
She hesitated, part of her wanting to tell him she was busy, even as another, hungrier part of her said, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll buzz you up.”
“Seriously, what on earth are you doing here?” Jude asked from the open door of her apartment.
Panting after he’d sprinted up the three flights of stairs—why had he sprinted up three staircases—Tom couldn’t answer right away. He pressed a hand to his chest and inhaled sharply.
Her big blue eyes widened. “Are you all right?”
He gasped, then nodded. Was his face as flushed as he feared?
“Um, do you need a glass of water?”
He waved away her question. “I…er…I happened to be in the area, and you popped into my mind and I thought, ‘hey, why not see if Jude is home.’”
“All right, I’ll buy that.” Her nose crinkled and her eyes narrowed. “But why?”
Yeah, Brunswick, why?
She chuffed out a big breath of air as if she’d been the one to run three flights of stairs. Yes, he was yammering on about the stairs, but he’d been running really fast and it wiped him out, especially after ninety minutes in the gym that morning.
“C’mon in then.” She motioned him over the threshold.
Yay! Why did he feel like he’d won a hundred dollars on a lottery scratch-off?
He slipped inside her apartment, passing her as she stood beside the open door. Her scent—a comforting blend of old books, dried rose petals, and vanilla bean—teased his nose as he sauntered past.
“Have a seat.” She gestured at the couch.
He sat down as he watched her take the plump armchair across from him. He couldn’t help smiling at her. She had that effect on him.
Niceness beget niceness.
She pressed her knees together a little primly and settled her joined hands into her lap.
“Now, tell the truth. Why did you drop in on me?”
“You did ask me to help you shake off the niceness.”
“Turns out it was a rhetorical question.”
He raised an eyebrow, studying her intently. “Backtracking?”
“What?”
“Rhetorical is not the way I remember it. In fact, you said, and I quote, ‘Just give me some advice on how I can be a little bolder, a little less ‘nice,’ and the tickets are yours.’”
She crinkled her nose in that adorable way of hers. Like a bunny rabbit suspicious in new surroundings. “I did? That’s terribly specific.”
“It’s why I’m here.” He latched on to the excuse because it was all he had. He couldn’t very well come right out and admit he simply couldn’t get her out of his mind.
But coming here was pretty stupid if he really intended on winning that no-sex bet with Dirk. Just seeing her flawless skin and the way the fluffy blue sweater she wore hugged her curves had him thinking sexy thoughts he shouldn’t entertain.
“You’re here to earn your tickets?” She leveled him a skeptical stare.
“Yes.”
“You could have called or texted first.”
He nodded. “I should have. Spur of the moment impulses have gotten me into trouble more than once.”
Which was how he’d lost the bar bet the first time around.
“I can imagine,” she said dryly as if she disapproved of impulsiveness, but her eyes were smiling.
He had a sneaky suspicion she was baiting him, and he suspected she had a wicked sense of humor when you got to know her, but she’d met her match if she thought he was easily chased off. Tom loved a challenge. Hence the fix he was in.
She crossed her legs and swung her foot in lazy circles. She wore leggings in a wild, colorful pattern, and he couldn’t stop staring at them. “Your friend Dirk called me.”
“Wait, what?” Tom straightened his spine, surprised at how quickly his throat constricted. That rascal Dirk was up to no good.
“He asked me out.”
“Yeah?” Tom raised an eyebrow, trying to look mild and chill, but inside he was steamed that Dirk was making a real play for Jude.
He knew what his buddy was up to, trying to stir Tom’s jealousy. If Tom got protective over Jude that would only fuel the sexy feelings raging inside him, and such feelings could easily lead to the bedroom, especially since Jude was aiming for wild, loose, and bold.
But Tom refused to get possessive…at least outwardly.
“Yes.” Jude was watching him as intently as a cat watching a mouse hole.
“You’re going out with him?”
“No.”
Whew! Tom was so relieved that he ran the back of his hand over his forehead. “What did he say when you turned him down?”
“He told me to text him if I changed my mind.”
Tom paused, alarmed to find his body tensing in all kinds of places. “Why did you turn him down? Especially when you’re aching to explore your wilder side? Why not say yes?”
Her smile turned coy and she lowered her gaze. “Because there’s someone else I’m interested in.”
“Oh?” he said, a torque of fresh jealousy twisting him up inside. She’d danced with a lot of guys last night and he mentally ran through them all. What was this all about? He barely knew Jude. She did, however, smell quite lovely and what a smoking hot body!
“And I was wondering…” Her shapely leg kept swaying.
Tom stared, mesmerized. “Yes?”
“The guy—”
“Is it Dirk?”
“No, forget Dirk. The guy who caught my interest doesn’t go for women like me.”
“What does that mean, Jude?”
Her cheeks pinked and she lowered her gaze. “I’m too dull for him.”
“How do you know?”
“I talked to some of his relatives last night.” Her gaze popped back up to his face. “They told me he dates gl
amorous women with exciting careers…” She paused. “Like Brenna.”
He didn’t really want to help her snag this guy. He wanted to be the guy she snagged, but there was the whole competition with Dirk thing, and when he’d told Brenna about the bar bet, that had gone over like a concrete balloon. He kept thinking about Brenna’s reaction, and it prevented him from coming clean with Jude about the wager.
He should just be honest and say, Hey, I like you, but I can’t get into a relationship for thirty-five more days;, could you hold off transforming yourself until then?
But he couldn’t take the risk that, like Brenna, Jude would find the idea of a no-sex bet between fraternity brothers childish and immature. It was childish. He knew that, but he wanted to win anyway. Dirk had bested him once too often. This time, Tom was determined to emerge the victor.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t help Jude in her quest for a hot fling. He could steer her clear of the wrong guys and maybe, when the bet was over, he could convince her that she should be dating him instead.
He rubbed his palms against his jean-clad thighs, surprised to find he was feeling a little nervous. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll do what I can. I owe you for those tickets.”
She grinned, and he was glad he’d come—impulsive or not. Spending time with Jude was a great way to pass a Sunday afternoon.
“So where do we start?”
“Tell me about this guy,” he invited, leaning forward on the couch to rest his elbows on his thighs, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin on top of his joining hands. Although he really didn’t want to know about the man she wanted, but at least it wasn’t Dirk.
Her gaze locked on to his. “Well, he’s very good-looking and a great dancer.”
“You’ve danced with him?” Tom couldn’t look away if a fire had spontaneously broken out in the room. “Was he at the wedding?”
Slowly, she nodded, her grin widening.
“Oh, okay,” he said, trying to sound completely unconcerned, but his mind was spinning over the guest list, trying to figure out who she had her eye on. She’d danced with several guys. He hadn’t been keeping track for sure. He’d spent time dancing too.
“What else do you know about him, other than he likes interesting women?”
“He’s really sweet, although I don’t think he knows it. I think he has a playboy image from his college days that he hasn’t yet shaken. But that’s just a guess. I have no actual facts upon which to base that impression.”
“What are some of his interests and hobbies? Do you know?”
Jude shrugged. “I dunno. That’s the point of getting to know him. But first, I have to attract him. Let’s start there.”
“How do you know he’s not already attracted to you?”
“Hello.” She waved a hand. “Weren’t you paying attention? I’m too nice for him.”
“I’m not sure what you even mean by this nice thing. Do you mean you feel you’re too sedate?”
“Yes. That.” She pointed a finger at him. “Boring.”
“So, it’s just a matter of changing the way you dress?” He raked a gaze over her comfy clothes. He had no complaints about the leggings and a fluffy tunic sweater, but if she wanted to knock a guy’s socks off, maybe she should try something more revealing.
“That and my interests. There’s nothing more I enjoy than curling up with a good book or watching Netflix and calling for takeout. I know, I’ve been lectured on that before. Dullsville.”
“From your ex-fiancé?”
“Among others.” She sighed.
“So how do you normally find your dates?”
“Excuse me?” She looked a bit confused.
“Dating apps? Social groups? Church? Work?”
“Not dating apps. I tried it once.” She shook her head. “The people I met all seemed like they were waiting for something better to show up. The Swipe Right culture.”
“How did you meet your ex-fiancé?”
“At work. He coaches high school basketball.”
“That must be tough. Having to see him every day after he dumped you.”
“He doesn’t work there anymore.”
“That’s good for your healing, I suppose.”
“Definitely.”
“So what do you see as the essential problem with your dating life?” Tom steepled his fingers and felt professorial. Was he giving off a Henry Higgins vibe? Is that why she was asking him to help her date other men?
“I don’t want anything serious right now, but I’ve never been one for casual relationships. I believe you can tell from the first date if someone is boyfriend material or not.”
Am I boyfriend material? he wondered.
Tom eyed her, taking in those soft cheeks, rounded chin, and perky smile. He got that she was built for commitment. “Attracting men isn’t your problem—picking the best one is.”
Her smiled slipped away and a frown took its place, creasing her forehead. “If you say one word about my mistake with Jaxon—”
“He’s ancient history.” He held out his hands in a gesture of surrender and was relieved when she stopped scowling. “But you’re still holding on to the memory of what he did to you like it’s a security blanket.”
“I am?”
“That’s how it looks from where I’m sitting.”
She gave that some thought, stroking her chin with a thumb and forefinger. “What are you saying?”
“You’re letting a man who walked away from you judge how you should be in the world. You’re giving him too much control. And you’re doing the same with other people’s opinions too. For instance, this new guy you’re attracted to who you believe thinks you are too nice. Don’t change yourself for him. Be you. If he doesn’t like you, his loss. Not everyone is going to like you and that’s okay.”
A sadness came into her eyes. “But I want everyone to like me.”
“And that, dear woman, is where you’re tripping yourself up. Your problem isn’t that you’re not wild enough.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
“What is my problem?”
“You care too much about what other people think.”
She looked as if he’s just thrown a dart at a huge target and hit it dead center of the bullseye. “You might be right.”
“That’s not niceness. That’s being a doormat.”
“Hey!”
“The truth hurts just as it sets you free. You sure you’re ready to go down this road?”
She nodded. Vigorously. “Okay, let’s start fresh. Can you teach me how to stop caring about what other people think?”
“I could put you on the right path, but only you can walk it.”
“Okay.” She bobbed her head. “Let’s do this thing.”
“Grab your coat.”
“Now?”
“You have something better to do?”
“No.”
He stood up, felt his pulse quicken. Darn but he loved a challenge.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Why?”
“I’d like to know how to dress for the occasion.”
“You look fine just as you are.”
“No way, these are my lying around on the couch clothes.”
“Are you worried people will whisper behind your back about the woman who wears comfy clothes in public?” He snorted.
“No.” Her chin jutted up defiantly, but her tone said she was lying.“It’s for me, not them.”
“Okay, if it makes you feel any better, put on a pair of jeans and some lipstick, and let’s hit the road.”
7
Knowing Tom was far righter than she wanted him to be, Jude slipped into her bedroom and locked the door behind her. There was one area where he was wrong though; he hadn’t realized she was trying to tell him that he was the man she was interested in.
That’s because she wasn’t his type.
Last night at the wedding, she’d talked to Tom’s aunts
and mother. They’d all shaken their heads over the fact that Tom couldn’t seem to settle down.
“He likes the girls who keep it light,” Tom’s mom had shaken her head. “The fast ones.”
“Women,” one of the aunts had corrected. “When they’re over eighteen, these days, they like to be called women.”
“That’s because they are girls,” another aunt chimed in. “Just wait until someone calls them ma’am.”
“No offense,” Tom’s mother apologized to Jude.
“None taken,” she’d answered, but she’d thought, Tom likes fast women. Be faster.
Jude shimmied out of her leggings in the time it took to haul in a deep breath. She was going for the fastest clothes change world record, fearful he’d come to his senses and decide to just take off.
She dove into a pair of black slacks that she wore to work and exchanged the old sweater for a button-down blouse, her heart beating just a little too fast for her own good. She felt…well, excited.
Chillax, Bailey.
The important thing to remember was that this wasn’t a date and primping of any kind was strictly uncalled for. She took down her ponytail and ran a brush through her wavy hair. Staring at herself in the mirror, she realized that looked far too sexy and pulled her hair back into the ponytail.
Much safer.
No self-respecting nice woman would dream of accepting a date from a drop-in. But a fast woman would. She liked the idea of being fast. It was less intimidating than the word “wild.” Wild had connotations of reckless that scared her. Fast just meant being quick on the draw.
Stop rationalizing a last-minute date. He’s waiting.
She allowed herself a quick dab of lipstick. Quick was casual; quick was imperative. No overdoing it. No dressing to impress.
Even if she wanted to impress him.
Jude met the eyes of her reflection. He hadn’t picked up on the fact that he was the one she was interested. Not Dirk. Not any of the other guys she’d danced with at the wedding. Tom was who she wanted. What did she have to do to get him to see that?
Just tell him.
No. She couldn’t come right out and tell him she wanted a casual hookup. It wasn’t her M.O. But maybe by hanging out together he’d figure it out on his own.
That was her game plan anyway.
