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Authors: Carmen Falcone

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BOOK: A Night of Misbehaving
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“Why not?” he said. “You don’t like me, do you?”

She upped an eyebrow. “I like you…just not enough to go on a date with you.”

“Ouch.” He touched his heart and made a sad face. “You really know how to woo a guy.” He turned his attention to her mouth.

She chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve already been wooed into the next century.”

His eyes lifted and focused on hers again. A shot of espresso spilled into her bloodstream.

“Then give me a chance to woo you.” He swung around to signal the bartender, and she lifted her hand to her neck, squirming in her chair.

Damn. No wonder Alice threw caution to the wind. Alice. Her BFF since sixth grade. Alice hadn’t mentioned him in a few weeks, but Georgia knew her friend was proud and it had to be uncomfortable to send emails and sit in committee meetings with the man who’d snubbed her.

After exchanging a couple of words with the bartender, he sat on the stool and stared at her. “What can I do to show you I’m not the douchebag you think?”

Nothing.
“I’d like for you to bow out of organizing the annual barbeque party, for starters.”

“Why?”

“Because your presence might take center stage and steal the focus from the fund-raising. And I ate your hamburger last year; it’s nothing to write home about.”

His hearty laughter reverberated through her. “Georgia, give me until midnight. If by then you still think I’m a stuck-up bastard, I’ll pull out of organizing the barbeque party.”

“And if I change my mind about you?” she asked, even though it was highly unlikely.

A dangerous smile formed on his lips. Challenge flickered in his darkening green eyes. “Then you’ll stick around a bit longer and try something new. I’ll pull a wild card.”

She held onto the sides of her stool, as if she would slip otherwise, and followed the pulse of his smooth, thick neck. Clenching her fingers harder, she cleared her throat. “Wild cards…are…not my thing.”

He shifted on his stool, rubbed the back of his neck, and then tilted his head an inch or two from hers. “You’re making it a thing. Don’t. Just go with it.”

Just go with it.
If she was able to put up with him for a few hours, she’d save Alice from having to work with him. And she might just prove to him that not every woman was susceptible to his charms.

What did she have to lose? She’d sent Ella for a sleepover at her mother’s. Although the painful ritual of waxing and the brand new stilettos she’d purchased earlier had been a waste of time, at least she wouldn’t have to go home to an empty house and read one of her dozens of self-help books, which constantly failed in convincing her she was better off alone.

If a man like Brent didn’t do the job of showing her how good her independent life really was, there was no book in hell that would. She crossed one leg over the other, slightly brushing against one of his.

He smiled. Not a conceited smile, like the one she had expected. Instead, he slowly flashed his straight white teeth. And to worsen her inner turmoil, a dimple dipped on each side of his face.

“Deal.” She pushed the word from the depths of her lungs.

Chapter Two

Brent reached into his pocket and produced his coin. He rolled it between his knuckles. Too late to retreat.

She was so fucking beautiful. Flecks of silver blue surrounded her black irises, and he craved her bow-shaped mouth on his. He ran his fingers through his hair. A black, halter-top dress hugged her slender curves, the hem barely brushing her knees. His gaze dipped lower, and he smiled at the red, pointy high heels she tapped on the metal bar.

He caught a whiff of her floral perfume and ached to touch her, taste that scent on her skin. What would she feel like, naked between rumpled sheets? Would she moan soft and low, or announce her pleasure from the top of her lungs? His libido stirred, his throat dryer than armadillo skin.

He clasped the coin, squeezing it hard against his palm.
Keep it together, man.

Her questioning his presence and, furthermore, the quality of his damn burgers made him want to show her just how good his meat was. Seducing her, however, wasn’t part of the plan.

He’d come to do the right thing and explain that he’d saved her from a date from hell with an STD-carrying douchebag who had nothing to offer. He’d hoped to win some brownie points then, by being the nice guy, and make her trust him enough to do business with him in the future. But he couldn’t get over the twinkle in her eyes when she’d told him she was waiting for someone. Somehow it made him think she had expectations. His chest had tightened. He knew her enough to know she was proud. If he told her he had canceled her date with Carl, no matter how much of a favor that was, she would be embarrassed. And possibly angry.

He shoved his coin back into his pocket, the metal warmer than before.

“What do you do, Georgia?” he asked, to remind himself where they stood.

“I’m a human resources director at A.W. Enterprises.” Her easy smile showed him she was happy where she worked. His spine locked into place.

“You own gyms, right?” She gave him a once-over, different than the ones he usually got. There was no lust in her gaze, only a strange interest. Studying him like he was some German manual on how to set up a new workout machine. “Why are you on a dating site?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I work a lot, and I’m a single mom. I’d think you would have more chance encounters at your place of work,” she insisted, her eyes fixed on his.

“Just because my profession entails people working out with tight shorts doesn’t mean they’re up for grabs.” Not a lie.

She raised her eyebrow. “You’ve been divorced for a year or so, right?”

“You seem to know an awful lot about me.”

A shade of pink spread across her face, and she shook her head. “Some moms get chatty at the bake sale. I try not to get involved, but it’s not like I’m wearing earplugs.”

He chuckled. “Well, gossipy moms aside, I’m at a disadvantage because I know nothing about you.” He had gone over the trash folder from his email just to retrieve her name. All those over-the-top emails she’d sent weekly to the class parents about kids’ activities, gluten-free recipes, and tried-and-true educational toys—no wonder in his mind she was just Super Mom.

She glared at him, her eyes glossy and wide. She parted her lips, like she was about to say something, but she pressed them together for a lengthy moment. Then finally she said, “You really think people can get to know each other over drinks?”

“No. But it’s a start. And we’ve got all night.” The hint of vulnerability in her eyes made a surge of desire zap through him.

Resisting her was going to be a hell of a task.


“Do you know what you want?” Brent asked across the table.

Georgia lowered the menu she’d been pretending to read for the past two minutes and glanced at the man studying her. What did she want? To control time and fast forward this whole charade for starters. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

Having drinks with him was one thing. Then in a blur, the hostess approached and said their table in the upstairs restaurant was ready, and while Georgia contemplated at what time specifically he’d asked for a table, they’d been shown to their seats at a corner booth.

She caressed the buttery white leather and fought not to throw her head back and relax. The songs from the dance floor blended jazz and bluegrass notes with lyrics that spoke of love, forgiveness, and lust.

Lust. She cleared her throat. “The salmon please.”

“I’ll have the beef Wellington.” He smiled at the waitress, who returned his smile, confirmed their orders, and sauntered out of sight.

What did she really want? To be on a real date with someone who made her laugh. An uncomplicated man. A guy who didn’t have an enter-at-your-own-risk sign clinging to his every smile.

“Do you do this often?” he asked.

Fantasize about a normal date?
“Eat salmon often? Not as much as I should.”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes both inviting and mysterious. “Omega-3 is good for you.”

She arranged the linen napkin on her lap, for the third time. “How about your juicy filet, coated with pâté and wrapped in pastry? I thought this kind of indulgence would be forbidden from your diet.”

“Not at all. I’ve learned not to underestimate the power of the forbidden.” His voice was smooth as silk, and it sent a jolt through her.

“Even when it’s bad for you?” she asked.

“Especially then.” His lips settled into a seductive smile, with those damned irresistible dimples on either side.

Swallowing hard, she lifted her glass of water and drank a big gulp. A thrill of excitement invaded her like a hostile takeover.

“Isn’t that why you are on that website, Georgia? To live on the edge?”

“Is that why you came?” She managed to say it with an unaffected, nonchalant tone.

“That’s why I stayed.” He leaned forward, his voice intimate.

She squared her shoulders and wiped her sweaty palms on her dress. “Brent, I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone from school about my profile on that site.”

He arched his brow. “Does it matter what anyone says?”

Not really, but she hoped she’d get him out of the barbeque party without Alice knowing she had anything to do with it. Plus, she wouldn’t survive the pestering from the other moms if word got out. Prim and proper Georgia Taylor, on a date with the hottest man in Austin? “I’m private. That’s all.”

“Mysterious women are every guy’s downfall. Once we see something we don’t quite understand, we won’t stop until the secret is unveiled,” he drawled, his voice dropping an octave.

“And what do you do afterward, when all the mystery is gone? Bolt?” She tossed her hair to one side.

His warm gaze held the intimacy of a hug. “Bolting is not my style.”

She straightened her posture, giving herself a mental slap.
Focus, Georgia
. “Spoken by a divorcé.”

“Didn’t know you were so cynical.” He crossed his arms and his face tightened.

Crap. She didn’t need to see her cheeks to know they were reddening. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I guess we should go back to discussing fish and meat.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “Since we’re on the topic of meat… One day, I’ll prove you wrong about my burgers.”

One day? She’d be happy to get through dinner. “For someone who’s supposed to be a health nut, you sure talk a lot about greasy food.”

“I’m not a health nut,” he said, toying with the candle in the middle of the table. The dim lighting didn’t conceal the gleam in his eyes. “Not all the time, anyway. Sometimes I have Cheetos for dinner.”

“Cheetos?” She caught herself smiling. “Ella’s dream come true.”

“The beauty of childhood.”

“Yeah.” She ducked her head and stared down at her fidgety fingers. The distraction didn’t last long. Restless, her attention returned to Brent. He scratched his chin, and her eyes followed the movement of his long, tanned fingers. A couple of invisible ropes passed each other in her stomach, looping around till they turned into a Navy SEAL-proof knot. The type only one person could loosen…

No. She couldn’t be attracted to Sexy Dad…but she was.
Shit.
I should know better by now.
Curling the tip of her hair with her index finger, she pretended to observe the couples dancing carelessly on the dance floor.

“You never answered my question. Do you do this”—he gestured with his fingers at the two of them, like they were part of a circle—“often?”

“You’re my fourth blind date. How about you?”

He leaned closer to her. “You’re my first.”

Again, a smile formed on her lips before she planned it. “Why? Why did you pick me and not tell me who you were?”

He drummed his fingers on the crisp, white table linen, eyes still on her. “Would you have said yes if I had asked you on a date?”

She scooted back until she pressed hard against the leather. “This isn’t a date.”

“Georgia. We’re talking in a restaurant without kids or crayons in sight. There’s alcohol and your legs look shaven and smooth. This is the definition of a date.” With a wink, he rested his case.

She glanced down at her legs, now slightly restless after his comment. She crossed them together, not allowing her mind to make too much of what he’d said.

“Dance with me.” His voice broke with huskiness.

She turned her focus to him, tapping her heels on the floor. The rest of her sat motionless, the Navy SEAL knot beating its own pulse. This was worse than having to fire someone she was friends with.

Lifting her hand to her chest, she was about to open her mouth and say anything at all when he produced an antique bronze coin from his pocket. “Let’s leave it up to chance.” He threw the coin up into the air, caught it, and slapped it on the back of his hand. Without glancing down, he declared, “Heads, you’re dancing with me.”

“And tails?”

He leaned back in his chair, squaring his shoulders. “We pretend we aren’t fantasizing about ripping each other’s clothes off and talk about the weather.”

A nervous laugh floated up her throat. She curled her toes inside her shoes. He was kidding, right? “Okay. Amuse me.”

He pulled his hand away and lifted his other one, with the coin on top. A chill skated down her spine. She raised her gaze to his, and his eyes sparked like he had unveiled a secret.

“The boring weather talk will have to wait.” His lips curled into a smile as he stood and offered his hand. “Shame.”

She rose to her feet and headed to the crowded, dimly lit dance floor as he brushed his fingers along the small of her back, his warmth seeping through her dress. The spicy notes from his scent teased her senses.
What is happening to me?

When he pressed her to him, her braless breasts collided against his chest, and she gasped. A Diana Krall look-alike singer crooned “It Had to Be You,” the seductive lyrics finding their way into her oversensitive ears.

He rested one hand firmly on her back and she shivered in response. Smothering a moan, she closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the organic way her body molded to his.

With graceful but sure steps, he moved her around the dance floor, the fingers on his other hand intertwined with hers. A man’s leadership never held much appeal to her. Well, not in the love department anyway. There, she’d learned to make her own rules. And she was a bit rusty but not completely blind to the truth. No good could come from taking things further with Sexy Dad.

“Brent, we danced,” she said at the end of the first song, with a voice as firm as an old pair of sweatpants. “Now, maybe we should go back to—”

“Ssshhhh…stop analyzing everything,” he whispered in her ear. “Relax and let yourself go.”

“Go where?”

His lips brushed her earlobe. “Anywhere.” The strained tone of his voice quickened her pulse. The simple word swung open a door that had been locked for too long. He caressed her fingers with his, and every gentle stroke stirred a current through her. Each time stronger than the last.

Guided by the thumping of her heart, she moved her upper body against his with slow, sultry movements.

A low groan flew from his lips, and she disentangled her fingers from his and linked her arms around his neck.

The band started to play the jazzy version of “Daylight,” and more couples joined them on the dance floor. Although the music was fast paced and didn’t demand they stay close any longer, neither of them moved.

She waited for the magic to fade. For the curtains to open and someone to announce that everything had been a big joke. For that sensation of throbbing in her veins, making her blood run thick and hot, to go away.

He slid his hand lower on her back, his fingers brushing right above her butt. The silky material between his warm fingers and her skin caressed her like a lover’s experienced touch. His touch.

She felt him hardening against her belly. This couldn’t be happening.

For the next few minutes, they continued barely moving, lost in a wordless trance of lust. The curves of her body molded perfectly to the hard ridges of his. He wove his fingers through her loose hair. She tried to bite back a moan.

He must have heard it anyway, for he cupped her face and tipped up her chin. She raised her eyes to his. The darkness of the room outlined his features, but the light from the stage made it possible to see his eyes. The boyish smile was gone. Instead, he quirked up his lips and his long lashes swept over his partly closed eyes, darkened with desire.

Her breath caught in her throat. He dipped his head and lowered his lips. She wanted this. Hell, she did.
What if I just…let go for a while?

He brushed his lips against hers, and she leaned into him for support, the world under her feet starting to melt. She opened her lips and granted him full access, which he took. Every. Single. Bit. His tongue delved inside her mouth in a kiss more electrifying than dancing naked in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Naked?

BOOK: A Night of Misbehaving
4.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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