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My Daring Seduction
Isabel Sharpe


Dared to seduce the man she’s most attracted to, independent Boston bar owner Lindsay Beckham is nervous.Is she really ready to give in to her dirtiest fantasies and entice tantalisingly tempting Denver Langston, her best friend and employee, into her bed?









My Daring Seduction


Isabel Sharpe






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)



Dear Reader,

February can be cruel. Up here in the frozen north, the weather can be stubbornly brutal when our thoughts are turning hopefully towards spring. Valentine’s Day can be a day of love and joy or of loneliness and sadness.

This month the women of the Martinis & Bikinis Club chase away February blahs with their usual meeting, which includes sexually provocative Martini Dares, but also a surprise for my heroine Lindsay. She’s off on the wildest ride of her life, thanks to sexy Denver Langston. Along the way she uncovers more Winfield family secrets and finally finds the key to real happiness. Hint: it’s not staying home playing it safe.

Curl up with a hot toddy, enjoy the story and think about starting up a Martinis & Bikinis chapter in your town. Then let me know how you like your dares! Cool and calm or sizzling hot?

Cheers,

Isabel Sharpe www.IsabelSharpe.com

Lindsay’s Ruby Valentini

4 parts vodka2 parts pomegranate juice1 part triple secSplash of lemon juiceServe ice-cold (with a warm heart)in sugar-rimmed martini glasses!




Table of Contents


Cover (#uc68faa2b-545d-51b8-96a5-d93660912818)

Title Page (#u47f21c44-6f5a-5200-ae19-42291db0a7e7)

About the Author (#uc26679df-4b60-56ee-85dd-e860b042cada)

Dedication (#u931f48dc-7f49-5504-b478-9c3bb9fac700)

Prologue (#ue3d7d691-65e3-5e47-834a-49fd5aac8ca3)

Chapter One (#u6f9c89b9-3a59-5c59-bc01-a0c8a49e2ff7)

Chapter Two (#u0c5d4d3f-1d03-5afa-885f-4a3d90b5ec64)

Chapter Three (#ub057ace9-4129-5ff1-a4ca-74b190489a2e)

Chapter Four (#u46843b8a-68e6-54cf-9936-4bd304efd13d)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ISABEL SHARPE

was not born pen in hand like so many of her fellow writers. after she quit work in 1994 to stay at home with her firstborn son and nearly went out of her mind, she started writing. after more than twenty novels – along with another son – Isabel is more than happy with her choice these days. She loves hearing from readers. Write to her at www. IsabelSharpe.com.


To my wonderful, wild and talented friends and

writing partners in this terrific series:

Lori Wilde, Carrie Alexander and

Jamie Denton.




Prologue


Dear Daughter,

What a difficult letter this is to write. I am ill now and you are probably reading this after I am gone as it will no doubt take my lawyer some time to find you. It is clichéd but true that looking at the end of life makes you think about what you would have done differently. If I had mine to do it over again, I would not have given you up for adoption, no matter the cost. That pain never left me. But once my life had become stable enough to support you properly, you had already settled in with your new family. What rights did I have to you after all? This I would also change. I could have met you at least, and told you where you came from.

However, one thing I can give you now is knowledge of your three wonderful sisters, my other daughters. Brooke, your eldest sister, is two years younger than you. She is my most sensible, practical and gracious daughter, though I suspect a wild streak she has dutifully suppressed. Next is Joey, my brilliant lawyer, who believes ambition and strength can hide her vulnerability and rebelliousness. Lastly, Katie, my baby. She needs to learn to celebrate her impulsive behavior more creatively and constructively.

What you do with this is up to you. All three girls still live in Boston, where they grew up with me. I hope you will seek them out and make our family whole again.

I want you to know that not a day went by when I didn’t look at them and also think of you, and the lovely young woman you have no doubt become.

Daisy Breckenridge Winfield


1

LINDSAY BECKHAM PUT DOWN the phone in her office carefully as if the receiver harbored an explosive. The calls from Gina were always surreal. On television blackmail was a dramatic high-stakes affair—threats, strong language, wrung hands and curses. Or excruciating, calculated and cruelly exciting.

These talks were bizarre simply because they were so ordinary. Gina was an old friend—or so Lindsay had had the typically poor judgment to think—so their exchanges were familiar, and while not exactly warm and fuzzy anymore, neither were they hostile. Gina treated her “salary” as if she were providing a service Lindsay should feel thrilled to purchase and chatted about personal matters as if their friendship hadn’t taken this baffling turn several months ago when, in the middle of a catch-up phone call, Gina had blurted out, “Did you know there is no statute of limitations on murder?”

Wouldn’t the press be interested to find out that a few years back Gina Nelson had seen Lindsay Beckham, the hot new owner of Boston’s hot new bar, Chassy, kill her boyfriend? Forget the press, wouldn’t the police be interested?

And Gina had gone on to point out, wouldn’t potential investors in Chassy’s planned expansion be interested to learn the woman angling for their money had run away from her adoptive family at seventeen and lived a large part of her adult life high on whatever she could find, going from man to man, searching for love and her own identity the least likely way she could find either?

Needless to say, after that the call had hurtled downhill faster than an Olympic skier.

The betrayal had hurt her not just personally but professionally. Gina seemed to know precisely how much Lindsay could part with and stay afloat. Lindsay wanted to do more than stay afloat. She wanted to take Chassy from the quiet neighborhood stop it had been when her wonderful employers and mentors, Laura and Scott Downing, had sold it to her for a song, to the trendy powerhouse she was sure the bar could be as their South Boston neighborhood grew and began to thrive. In the last year she’d made a lot of the right moves, including starting a local chapter of the Martinis and Bikinis women’s social club. That guaranteed her loyal customers for its monthly meetings where lucky members were selected to complete wild and empowering dares.

With Gina back in the picture, clinging to her, her past couldn’t be put to rest no matter how far Lindsay thought she’d moved beyond it. She’d finally wrestled away most of her guilt over causing her ex-boyfriend Ty’s death, but she wasn’t sure the courts would take the same view.

Unfortunately, Gina’s timing was typical of Lindsay’s life. For a precious few weeks in early fall Lindsay had started to feel she was finally digging herself out of the bad times and bad luck that had been her lifelong companions. A new vow of clean living, success in business, then the biggest surprise—information about her birth family—had been dropped into her lap the previous summer in the form of a letter from her deceased birth mother introducing her three half sisters, Brooke, Joey and Katie. Lindsay had invited them to join Martinis and Bikinis and was gradually getting to know the trio.

And then, kaboom, Gina.

There was always something. Granted, she’d made bad choices, but while a lot of people believed in the idea of happily ever after, and some people like her blue blood Winfield half sisters even got a shot at living it, for Lindsay there had only been struggling-ever-after.

“Hey there.”

Her assistant manager’s voice made Lindsay jam on a smile. Another case in point. Born into a wealthy family, Denver Langston had attended an Ivy League college and medical school, and had the luxury of ditching his lucrative career as a plastic surgeon in L.A. because the work hadn’t been what he expected.

Now he had the further luxury of slumming in her bar while he figured out what he wanted to do next and where.

If she didn’t respect him so much, she…well, she might not.

“Hi, Denver.”

He moved toward her, early as always for his shift, slipping off the royal blue jacket that didn’t look thick enough to ward off the dismal damp cold of winter in Massachusetts, but doubtless was several-hundred-dollar state-of-the-art Alpine gear. “How goes it?”

Lindsay shrugged and turned toward her desk, looking for something to straighten. As usual there was nothing. Though she’d always been teased for her compulsive neatness, first by her sloppy adoptive parents and her equally sloppy boyfriends, now by her staff, order kept her from feeling panicked and overwhelmed. And something about Denver made her feel both.

“The usual.” And how screwed up was her life that being blackmailed counted as the usual?

He watched her with that dark gaze that lately was making her want things she couldn’t have with him. Sex, intimacy, sex, fun times, sex…did she mention sex? Too risky. She was his boss for one, and not anxious for a sexual harassment lawsuit on top of blackmail, thanks very much. Second, she liked him, and whatever they started would sputter all too soon and ruin their working relationship. One thing she’d learned the hard way, men didn’t stick around after the initial orgasmic thrill wore off.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, sure she wasn’t fooling him. Denver wasn’t much of a talker, but he had this unsettling way of tuning into her moods that made her…

Well, she wasn’t quite sure what it made her, but she knew it wasn’t any healthier for her peace of mind than the calls from Gina.

“You’re sure?”

“Sure.” She nodded, aware her tone was too bright and he’d notice. “Fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarcasm became him. Everything became him. “And I’m Paris Hilton.”

“Post-op?” If she looked at him any longer, her insides would twist up and she’d start with the blush-and-stutter crap.

Tall and imposing, handsome to a point, nose too proud to be perfect, Denver wasn’t the kind of guy that turned female heads the first time he walked into a room, but probably the second or third, and definitely once he’d smiled and shown his easy charm. He was also the kind of guy that could intimidate most people simply by setting his jaw a certain way and scowling. She’d seen him in action when the occasional patron got rowdy.

Luckily it took more than hard jaws and scowls to get her to crack.

“So you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Do I ever?” She glanced over to see him shake his head, amusement turning up the corners of his mouth.

“Nah. But I keep trying.”

“Yeah, you do.” She opened a cabinet drawer to look busy, wondering why he bothered, and riffled through the hanging folders searching for the file on the next evening’s Martinis and Bikinis Love or Lust? pre-Valentine’s Day party, probably passing it three times.

“This what you want?” He found the file and handed it to her.

“How did you know?”

“Same file you always pull when I come in here to talk to you.”

Busted. She turned her head to hide the blush that was her fair skin’s nemesis, which she could control around ninety-nine percent of the population. Guess who belonged to the one percent? “Thank you.”

“Lindsay.” His voice was too intimate; he moved closer and she tensed, ready to tell him to back off. “Would you—”

“Hey, guys, what’s up?”

Saved by the bell. Justin Bell, their hot young bartender, hired at the end of the summer and raking in devoted female customers. He swaggered into her office, dressed in butt-hugging black pants and a black T-shirt, dirty blond hair mussed in a look that probably took him hours.

“Hi, Justin.” Lindsay moved past Denver. “Remember, we’re running a special on mango mojitos and passion fruit martinis for our Tropics in Winter night tonight, so be ready.”

“Sweetheart, for you, I am always ready.” Justin gyrated his pelvis and Lindsay laughed in spite of her crappy mood.

“Just keep the customers happy, Justin. I’ll worry about keeping me happy.”

He shook his head. “Lindsay, babe, you have got to get yourself somewhere warm. Miami or the Sahara…or even better into some hot guy’s arms.”

Lindsay raised her brows. “And why is that?”

“To melt that layer of ice you’re stuck in.”

Behind her Denver snorted. She shot him a look, then sent Justin a glare. Men. “We open in thirty, get to work. And for tomorrow evening’s Martinis and Bikinis meeting, try eliminating the simple syrup in the pomegranate juice mix for the Valentinis. We have lots of women watching carbs and/or calories, and I thought they were too sweet. Maybe sugar around the glass rims instead.”

“Yes, ma’am, boss woman.”

She’d opened her mouth to correct him to Lindsay, when Denver’s hand gripped her upper arm, making her hiss like an ambushed feline. She did not like being touched unexpectedly, especially from behind.

“Whoa.” His hand gentled immediately. “You’re on edge even for you.”

“I’m fine. What do you want?”

“I just need a minute.”

She nodded briskly, pulling out of his grasp. “Justin, if Casey isn’t here in five, call her cell and light a fire under her ass, okay?”

“You can count on me, babe.”

“Lindsay.”

“No problem, Lindsay-babe.”

She countered his boyish smile with a withering look and shooed him back into the bar, then crossed her arms over her chest and turned to Denver, who was leaning casually against her desk. “So, guy, what’s up?”

He smiled at her imitation of Justin. “You want it straight?”

“I always do.” She hugged herself tighter and had to remind herself to keep her shoulders from stiffening up toward her ears. Not more bad news. Gina had hinted she’d be asking for a “raise” soon and Lindsay needed time with the books, time alone, time to let herself deal with the threat.

“Casey quit. She’s pregnant and sick and can’t handle the long hours on her feet.” He spoke quietly but she saw the concern in his eyes.

“Okay.” Lindsay nodded calmly, while her insides shouted, No, not Casey, not now. “She told you today?”

“She called my cell.”

“Right.” She banished the jolt of irritation at the idea of Casey knowing Denver’s cell number and went over the schedule in her mind. “I’ll work tomorrow’s Martinis and Bikinis party. How long before you can get someone new?”

He shook his head.

She frowned. “That long?”

“No, not the new hire.”

“What now?”

He pushed himself away from her desk and came to stand a foot away. She had to make herself not step back. “You.”

“What are you talking about?” She felt like growling. She had enough on her plate without psychoanalysis.

“Don’t you let anything out?” He put his hands on his hips, taller than her five-ten height by a good number of inches. “I picture this seething mess of emotions inside you. Like snakes trapped in a box.”

“Why, Denver, how literary.”

His jaw set. She couldn’t help smirking. What did he want, that she’d break down crying because she’d have to work harder than hard until they found a replacement? She was born on a Saturday, “Saturday’s child works hard for a living.” She wasn’t afraid of work. Work was healthy, clean and constructive.

So if he thought she’d lay her head on his big sturdy chest, blubber into his manly-man strength and allow that he was more powerful and capable and superior than she, he had another think coming.

Staff quit, that was part of the business. She marched to the door of her office and called out to Justin. “Cancel order to harass Casey, she’s not coming in.”

“Gotcha, big lady.” He grinned at her scowl. “Big lady Lindsay.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back into her office, feeling brittle and tenuous, as if one more push was going to send her over and maybe she’d need that manly-man chest after all.

Except she didn’t. Life had taught her she could handle a lot more crap with a lot less trauma than most people.

Her private phone rang. She half lunged for it then stopped herself. Lindsay’s panic would be immediately apparent to Mr. See-Everything. Then she panicked anyway and lunged again, encountering Denver’s hand already on the receiver before she snatched hers away and retreated.

He had a brief conversation, watching her the whole time, a conversation that sounded as if another waitress was coming in late tonight, damn it. She imagined herself on the surface of the moon, everything bright, vast, calm, quiet, in the control of forces much bigger than her.

“Margaret’s going to be late. Meltdown on the Mass Pike.”

Lindsay nodded. “I’ll cover.”

“When was your last day off?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“It’s a simple question.”

“I don’t do days off.”

“You need to.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but his gaze was relentless. “You can fool most of the people most of the time but you can’t fool me.”

“Give me a break.” She broke away from the hold of his gaze, busying herself with the bar schedule. She hated when he got sweet and probing like this. Hated the weakness in her he seemed to be able to generate, the small persistent desire to unburden herself. Why him? Why not her three new half sisters? She was starting to feel close to and trust Brooke, the gentlest, eldest Winfield sister, though she got a real kick out of spunky Joey and bubbly Katie.

She resented that Denver had such power and that resentment made her harsher with him than she wanted to be. Which she also hated.

Last on her hate list? That she had the feeling he understood all of the above.

“Come swimming with me tonight after work.”

“What?” She swung around to face him. Was he asking her out? In what capacity? As a friend? A date? “Swimming?”

“Yeah. Immerse self in water, propel self through said liquid with coordinated motion of arms and legs.” He mimicked the front crawl arm circles.

She couldn’t help a smile. “Got it.”

“The neighbors are on a Greek island with my parents and let me use their indoor pool while they’re gone. It’s built in a glass extension to their house, so you can see the sky through the ceiling. You’d love it.”

She stood silently, imagining the two of them alone past midnight, sneaking a wintry moonlit swim in a stranger’s empty house and wanted to go with a force that shocked her.

“Um…I don’t think so.”

“Think it over.”

“Thanks, really. But no.” She managed to sound more sure that time, picked up an inventory off her desk and scanned it blindly. The paper flew out of her hands; she whipped around and snatched it back.

“One of these days, Lindsay.” He was leaning too close, watching her too closely, undoubtedly getting much too close to the truth of her emotional state. As usual.

“One of what days?” She pretended not to know, pretended not to care, pretended to herself that he couldn’t tell she was pretending. His chin was smooth-shaven, he smelled good, he was solid and masculine and everything she’d always fantasized about, excepting the silver spoon upbringing. Damn him to hell.

“One of these days you’re going to let me inside.”

“Or else what?” Her heart had jumped, was still jumping, like a maniac who’d just won the lottery. Inside? She knew what he meant but the way it sounded…

“No ‘or else.’ It’s just fact.”

Any other guy would get a sock in the nose trying such bullshit on her. But Denver managed to make the lines sound as much of a sure thing as his control over what he’d have for dinner that night.

“So what’s your point?”

He smiled, unruffled by her rudeness. “So my point is that it’s going to be good. For both of us.”

Was he flirting? Did he realize? “You’re sounding sexual.”

“What?” He clapped his hand to his chest, brows raised too high. “No way, really?”

Her mouth opened, she started to speak, then gave up when she realized she was actually speechless. A blush crept up her cheek and she turned—or tried to. He grabbed her arm. “No, no, don’t go, let me enjoy this. A reaction, my God. How I’ve waited for this moment.”

“Hmph. Maybe you need more work to do.”

“No.” Denver tugged on her wrist, gently, the way she didn’t mind so much being touched. “However, at closing time I’m going to ask you again, tonight and tomorrow and every night until you come swimming with me and I can get you to relax and have fun, even for an hour.”

“Without trying to get inside me?” She stuck as much sarcasm as she could into the phrase even as thrills struggled to take over.

He winked. “We’ll see about that.”

“Denver…” She used an I’m-your-boss warning tone to cover her confusion.

“I’m joking, Lindsay. This is friends only. Friends blowing off the steam of the day in a nice heated pool.”

“Yes, I know. I knew that. I know.” She pulled away from his hand, furious with herself for imagining much more…and doubly furious for being disappointed he hadn’t.

DENVER FINISHED ANOTHER frustrated lap and lolled at the edge of the pool, staring up into the perfect sky visible through the glass ceiling. He’d kept the lights off to enjoy the view. There was even a moon tonight, waning past full, white and pristine. The water was warm, the air cool, a large raft floated nearby for ultimate relaxing—how much more appealing could the setup be?

One way. But Lindsay hadn’t showed. Not that he expected her to. He didn’t even know why he’d bothered asking her, didn’t know why he’d turned so stubborn about making her open up to him. Didn’t know why he stayed in this town, at this bar, instead of trying to rebuild his plastic surgery career the way he envisioned it in medical school, helping people disfigured by fire, disease or defect, not hiking up the boobs and eyelids of vain rich people.

He’d been unceremoniously canned from one of L.A.’s most prestigious practices after losing his temper at a mother who’d wanted him to cut apart her beautiful and striking sixteen-year-old daughter and put her back together according to some bland ideal of perfection.

No, the mom hadn’t invented the attitude, she hadn’t deserved what he’d dished out. But she’d been the final straw for him and apparently, for his bosses. So he’d packed his broken-backed camel, driven across the country back to his home state of Massachusetts, parked his possessions in storage and his body in his globe-trotting parents’ early-retirement house in Brookline and had taken the job at Chassy, intending to be there only a few months while he got his head together. Nearly a year later he still hadn’t left.

At first he told himself he stayed for the comfortable routine, the excitement of watching the bar grow and change under Lindsay’s skillful leadership. Then he told himself he needed a little more time, what was the hurry? Money wasn’t a problem, his parents weren’t due back for a while and he really hadn’t decided yet where he wanted to settle or whether he wanted to return to California at all. Then he told himself Lindsay needed a friend. She’d been under some kind of extra stress in the last several months and refused to let anything out. He was a poster boy for what happened when you let discontent build too long.

All those were plausible reasons. Excellent reasons. Logical reasons. All contained a large grain of truth.

They just didn’t tell the whole story.

And he wasn’t sure he was ready to admit even to himself what that whole story was. All he knew was that his interest in Lindsay had slowly changed. Increasingly powerful sexual feelings were mixed with respect, friendship and, lately, growing concern.

None of it made sense. Jenna, his first love, had been a sweet petite redhead. With her he’d felt like Sir Galahad. After Jenna, his type became brainy plus voluptuous plus passionate, with eyes he could warm himself by, legs ditto. A woman with a healthy libido and a healthy grasp on her character and emotions.

Not some frosty blond beanpole with enough baggage to travel to Antarctica for a year.

What was wrong with this picture?

Annoyingly, he found himself in a position few doctors tolerated well—one requiring patience and restraint. He couldn’t order her to let him in, couldn’t give her pills for what ailed her, couldn’t prescribe spending time with him as the perfect cure, wasn’t trained to perform emotional plastic surgery to erase her internal scars.

He could only let her know he was there, willing to listen and to do what he could to help, prod occasionally, but never push or she’d get her back up and whatever progress he’d made gaining her trust would be undone.

Why the hell was he doing this to himself? Why hadn’t he just found another red-blooded wild woman to make his life easier and a whole lot more exciting?

Maybe because he’d counted on changing his life by coming home and more of the same no longer appealed.

The slide of the glass entrance door made him jerk his head up and peer at the shape entering the pool area, a flood of adrenaline letting him know how much he hoped it was Lindsay.

The figure approached and he had to keep himself from frowning disappointment. Not Lindsay. Shorter, curvier, wavy hair. Adele, whom he assumed was another friend of the Robinsons.

“Hi.” She spoke softly and came to stand at the edge of the pool. “How’s the water?”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect’s good enough for me.” She slid in gracefully, swam a leisurely circumference, then came back toward him, smiling. In the dim light her pale shadowed face made her look like the star of a black-and-white movie. Water droplets sparkled on her forehead and shoulders. She was undeniably beautiful—high cheekbones, almond eyes, lush curving lips. He instinctively gathered his legs under him as she drew closer, ready to move out of reach. The look on her face was purposeful, her eye contact pointed, but he wasn’t interested in staying in temptation’s way, because…

Because why?

He kicked off and swam a lap, then another, plowing through the water as if it deserved punishment. What kind of loyalty did he owe Lindsay? He wasn’t supposed to date his boss any more than he was supposed to date his patients in California and he’d had no trouble there steering clear of any and all offers. Why hold back from Adele? Lindsay could be dating four other guys for all he knew. Was he going to keep himself away from all other women while she showed next to no interest in getting close to him?

Except…

He did affect her. He knew he did. The way she fought her attraction, tried to deny it and got so flustered, had only made him more determined to wait her out until she surrendered. That might sound cavemannish except as much as he wanted her to give in, he wanted what could happen between them afterward even more. He wasn’t a hit and run type of guy—unless the woman made it clear that was all she wanted.

It could be all Adele wanted.

He pulled up to the wall back at the shallow end next to her, breathing slightly hard, probably more from emotion than exertion.

“Thought you were running away.” Her low voice echoed in the glassed-in room; she flicked her fingers so water splashed his face.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I can’t imagine. I don’t bite.” She smiled and tilted her head coyly, wet hair shaped close to her head so her stunning cheekbones stood out farther. “Unless you want me to?”

“Hmm.” He stalled for time, hoping the battle didn’t show on his face. “That is an interesting idea…”

“Then how about it?”

“Maybe. Someday.”

“Someday.” Her disappointment was clear. “Not tonight?”

He sighed. Why not tonight? Why the hell not? Why turn down a warm willing female because of a cold unattainable one?

Because his thoughts were full of Lindsay tonight. And the night before that and God knew how many nights before that or how many nights stretching out ahead.

As a doctor, he had to tell himself the obsession was unhealthy. Not to mention it was turning him into a monk.

“Not tonight.”

“No?” Adele lunged unexpectedly toward him, caught hold of his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him. The movement brought her incredible breasts out of the water, the perfect rounds pushed toward each other and toward him by the astonishing mechanics of her skimpy top. “You’re su-u-ure?”

He uh…thought he was sure. His mind had been sure, but his body was suddenly less so.

“It’s not a good time for me. There’s another woman…”

“At work.”

He frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“Just a guess.” She unwrapped her legs from around him. “What’s going on there these days anyway?”

He shrugged. He found it strange that his job held such interest for her. “The usual.”

“Seems like the place is doing pretty well.”

“Seems like it is.” He pulled back from her hands still clinging to his biceps, ducked under the water one last time and climbed out to find his towel. Time to go back to his parents’ house. Talking about Chassy with Adele wasn’t worth getting too little sleep for.

“I’ll see you around.”

“Sure.” She smiled at him from the pool. One thing he’d say for her, his rejection hadn’t upset her much. He liked that about her. Attraction, dating and mating were all about success and/or rejection. Too many women took it too personally when he simply wasn’t wired to want them. Of course he hadn’t thought he was wired to want someone like Lindsay.

He raised a hand in farewell and started for the changing room. It struck him that Adele always showed up after he got there and always left after too. He didn’t even know where she lived. Maybe he should ask next time he ran into her. In case he came to his senses and decided he could use a few nights of pure fun.

He glanced back one more time as he left. Adele was in the center of the pool, clinging to the raft, lips pursed in a kiss that turned into a fountain of water exiting her full lips. He grinned, waved again and she smiled wickedly, a half-naked, sexual-fantasy-come-true she-devil in the moonlight…

And he’d turned her down.


2

BY THE TIME TANYA SHOWED up for the Martinis and Bikinis party, Lindsay was ready, standing by the entrance to the curtained back room where their monthly meetings were held, offering a smile and a tiara with flashing red hearts.

Valentine’s Day was nearly two weeks away, but she’d gone with a Love or Lust? theme, alternating garlands of red-and-white paper hearts with the tackiest Lust item she could find, a similar-size garland of shimmering gold-and-silver penises that made her both cringe and want to giggle.

The Valentine’s Day tree, a slender trunk with bare branches painted white, she’d decorated with demure cutouts of wedding splendor—brides, grooms and assorted wedding loot—alongside models from a Victoria’s Secret catalog and colorful depictions of a wide range of marital aids. Two bowls, one on either side of the door, were filled with favors for departing guests. One held white Jordan almonds tied in white net bags with silver ribbon and various “gold” wedding/engagement rings. The other held assorted condoms and tiny bottles of vodka, gin and tequila.

On the table against the back wall sat the Dare Box, a carved wooden box with a hinged lid that Lindsay filled with dares for the member nominated to be so honored that evening. All members of the nominating committee, but especially Lindsay, tried to get to know each woman in Martinis and Bikinis so they could select those women ripest for change and push them in whatever direction they needed help in going. Lindsay had successfully steered each of her new half sisters into the arms of men they wouldn’t have otherwise approached so boldly. Katie and Liam and Joey and Sebastian were already engaged. Lindsay was sure Brooke and David would follow suit soon.

After her divorce Tanya had joined Martinis and Bikinis on the advice of her therapist. Since she was definitely the group’s shyest member, Lindsay had gone easy on her so far. However, Sherry, the nomination committee’s most gungho participant after Lindsay, had reported Tanya dropping timid hints about a cute new member of her lab team. When Sherry suggested to Tanya she was ready for a dare, rather than turning pale with terror, she’d blushed and giggled. Lindsay agreed. Tanya was definitely ready for a few more exciting experiments in chemistry than her lab made possible.

“Hi there, Happy Valentine’s Day.” Lindsay handed Tanya a heart tiara. It looked adorable on her, even though the flashing scarlet hearts clashed with her red curls. “I take it you’re putting yourself in the love column tonight instead of lust?”

“Yeah.” Tanya gestured to her midcalf red skirt and white shirt buttoned up under her chin. She tried to look dismayed, but was unable to squash her trademark giggle. “I’m not wild enough to be lusty.”

“We’ll see about that.” Lindsay gave her a wink and smiled when Tanya started looking panicked. The dares Lindsay picked out tonight had to be the tamest in their chapter’s history. At worst Tanya would have to ask the guy of her dreams out for coffee or a dinner date. For most of the women that would sound about as exciting as an evening doing algebra problems. For Tanya, it was the equivalent of having to walk naked through the Boston Common.

“Happy Valentine’s Day a couple of weeks too early, Lindsay. Hi, Tanya!” Sherry arrived, definitely lusty, wearing a midriff-baring white camisole and red shorts riding so low, they immediately suggested Brazilian wax job. On her feet, achingly high red heels that made her beautifully shaped legs look even longer. Every man in the bar must have noticed when she strutted past. Even Denver.

And here stood Lindsay in her standard bar black with sensible shoes. Ooh, baby. For a second she stupidly wondered what Denver would think of her in shoes like Sherry’s. Even with them on, he’d still top her by an inch or so…

Enough. She handed tiaras to Sherry and tall elegant Lauren, who could be either love or lust in an exquisitely tasteful, strapless black minidress. True to form, she politely greeted Lindsay, then made a bawdy comment about the penis garlands, which nearly made Sherry’s heart tiara fall off when she burst out laughing.

The women kept coming, close to the full thirty-member contingent. Lindsay handed out tiara after tiara, keeping a smile on her face, hoping her staff could keep up tonight.

Her smile turned warmer when three familiar and increasingly dear faces appeared in the line. Her half sisters: the youngest, Katie, tonight a very lusty French maid—the outfit in which she’d originally seduced her fiancé Liam thinking he was someone else; next Joey, equally naughtily dressed as a motorcycle mama, her favorite alter ego; and third, Brooke, the oldest—second oldest if you counted Lindsay, which Lindsay kept forgetting to do—who somehow managed to dress the right side of her body in demure bridal linen and the left in leather and chains. Love and lust.

Lindsay gave the trio a quick wave and greeted a few more women in line in front of them. After growing up the only child of parents who’d planned to adopt more kids but changed their minds after the supposed hell that was Lindsay—never letting her forget it—having half sisters was like something out of a fairy tale. Forget that the Winfield trio actually got to live a fairy tale, growing up adored by their parents, surrounded by money so old it probably built the Mayflower. For Lindsay, it was fairy tale enough that they seemed to enjoy her company, treating her as family in as many ways as they could. More often than she should, she resisted, feeling like the dairy maid among princesses when she was around them.

“Lindsay!” Katie gave her a bear hug. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“I’m working tonight.” She gestured awkwardly. Katie’s graceful exuberance always made her feel stiff and dull in comparison.

“Say it isn’t so.” Joey came up for her hug. “We wanted you to be able to party with us.”

“Absolutely.” Brooke’s turn, her hug was also affectionate, as was the kiss she planted on Lindsay’s cheek. A few months earlier Brooke had discovered John Winfield wasn’t her father by blood. The girls’ late mother, Daisy, apparently had something of a past, since the four girls had three fathers. One for Lindsay, who was given up for adoption. One for Brooke, who Daisy kept since she was marrying into the Winfield family while pregnant with her. Then the late John Winfield had fathered Joey and Katie.

Lindsay sympathized with Brooke. Not only did she have to deal with a shock similar to Lindsay finding out last summer she was adopted—shock tempered with relief that the selfish parents who raised her weren’t related by blood—but the discovery meant Brooke wasn’t a true Winfield. Purely symbolic since she was raised to be one, but that detail and their shared physical characteristics—a widow’s peak hairline, wide mouths, high cheekbones and long narrow fingers obviously inherited from their mother’s side of the family—made Brooke more approachable.

Lindsay handed her a tiara, annoyed at herself for not feeling comfortable enough to return the kiss. Her half sisters must consider her pretty cold. “Love the half-and-half costume, Brooke.”

“Thanks.” She grinned and struck a pose. “I swing both ways.”

Katie rolled her eyes. “We’ll hear that line all night. What’s the ’tini flavor this month? It looks red and de-e-licious.”

“A Ruby Valentini. Vodka, pomegranate juice, Triple Sec and lemon.”

“Ooh, sign me up for that action. You sure you can’t hang with us, Lindsay?”

“You have to!” Brooke said. “Tell the members to get their drinks at the bar so you can relax.”

“No, no. I can’t.” Lindsay shook her head emphatically. She loved the Martinis and Bikinis events but as the organizer and observer, needed to keep her distance. She always had something to do, somewhere to be, a duty to perform. Besides, drinking had landed her in so much trouble so many times she couldn’t equate it with fun anymore. “I don’t mind working.”

“We’ll see about that.” Brooke winked at her sisters, who grinned slyly back. “Right now I’m up for checking out the costumes and the booze. Who’s with me?”

The three women moved past Lindsay so she could continue welcoming guests. By eight-fifteen even the latecomers had arrived. She helped Margaret pass around trays loaded with Valentinis, which were being consumed in generous quantities.

Miraculously, even though the rest of the bar had filled up nicely as well, the evening seemed to be going smoothly. Justin had entered that state of fierce concentration where he appeared to be making five drinks at once. He’d been the best hire she’d made except for Denver, who wasn’t sitting down on the job either, serving drinks, keeping the appetizers flowing from the kitchen—in short, filling in wherever he could be useful without any direction from her.

Just before nine they intersected at the end of the bar, Denver’s arms loaded with dirty plates, her own carrying a tray of fresh drinks Justin had conjured in record time.

“Surviving?” He looked at her the way he always did, like he was trying to see past the surface, dark eyes calm and thoughtful in spite of his hurried pace.

“You bet.” She steadied the tray, unable to look away from him. “You?”

“Fine. Seems like a good time all around.” He smiled and moved away. She let herself look after him for a few stolen seconds before she went to rejoin the party—and encountered her three smirking half sisters.

“What?” She stopped cold, suddenly vulnerable and uncomfortable.

“My, my. I haven’t seen that many sparks since the Fourth of July.” Joey took a sip of her drink and moved to Lindsay’s right.

“Looked awfully warm in that part of the bar.” Katie moved to her left.

“I’m sorry, what’s that puddle at your feet?” Brooke took the center position. “Could you by any chance be melting?”

Busted. The blush came on full force and busted her even worse. “He’s my employee. Nothing more.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Right.”

“Oh, sure.”

“A damn good employee.” She stood her ground, pretty sure the battle was lost already. “One I don’t want to lose by doing any of the things you three are thinking.”

“Oh, I don’t think quitting would be on his mind. It certainly wasn’t just now.” Joey nudged Brooke, who nudged Katie who nodded as if she’d received some important signal.

Lindsay’s alarm bells started chiming. Her half sisters were lovely, well-bred women, all capable of deep mischief. Lindsay didn’t mind dishing it out, but like any control freak she didn’t like taking it. “Okay. What’s going on?”

“Isn’t it nearly time for tonight’s Martini Dares?” Katie spoke way too casually.

“Why I believe it is.” Joey took the tray from Lindsay. “I’ll deliver these. You’re needed front and center.”

“You certainly are.” Brooke took Lindsay’s arm and led her over to the wooden box. “Do your stuff.”

Lindsay took her place in front of the table facing the glittering, flashing-tiara-wearing revelers. Something wasn’t going to go according to plan tonight. Whatever the disruption, she hoped it was over soon and with minimal embarrassment.

“Okay, ladies.” She waited for the alcohol-fueled chatter to respond to various “Shhs” circulating the room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day and whatever else you’re celebrating in a loving or lusty way this month. We’ve reached that part of the evening where members of our group chosen by the nominating committee pick out a scroll from the sacred Dare Box. As always, we recite the rules first.” She pretended to unroll a parchment and held the invisible rules in front of her. “The members chosen for Martini Dares must be approved by a majority of the membership present. As you swore when you joined Martinis and Bikinis once you agree to pick a dare, there is no backing out. Period. Even quitting the group does not exempt you from your most serious obligation.”

“Okay. Now.” She raised her arm high above her head. “Show of hands that you have heard and understood?”

Hands shot in the air, including Tanya’s and Natalie’s, she was glad to see.

“Then by the completely nonimportant authority vested in me by the Martinis and Bikinis organization, I announce that this month’s dares will be taken by Natalie….”

She paused, to let the crowd react, and to wink at Natalie who had her hands clapped to her cheeks, laughing along with everyone else.

Lindsay smiled. These women were such a bright spot in her life. “And second to pick her dare tonight is—”

“Lindsay.” Three voices shouted her name as soon as she opened her mouth to call out Tanya’s.

“What?” She whipped around to stare at Brooke, Joey and Katie.

“Your turn tonight.” Brooke gestured to the box. “It’s time. Right ladies?”

“I—” Lindsay’s response was drowned out by approximately thirty roars of Yes! “No, it’s not my turn.”

“We say it is.” This from Katie accompanied by firm nods from Brooke and Joey.

Lindsay forced herself to stay calm. “I’ve already pick—”

“Overruled. Unanimously approved by the membership.” Lawyer Joey pointed sternly to the box. “Choose your fate.”

Lindsay glanced frantically around the room. People might suspect, but no one knew for sure that the dares were planted. Tonight’s dares were all geared for shy girls like Natalie and especially Tanya dreaming of her new lab team member. If Lindsay chose a dare now she’d have to think up another one next month mild enough for Tanya but challenging enough to whoever else was nominated to pick since shy girls were admittedly in short supply in the group. Coffee and dinner were barely the stuff of Martinis and Bikinis legend.

She opened her mouth to protest.

“No buts,” Katie said.

“Pick,” Joey ordered.

“Go for it,” someone called out and the phrase echoed around the room.

Lindsay sighed. Okay, fine. She had no trouble recognizing a lost cause when it was surrounding her, full of stubborn goodwill as this one was. So she’d pick the scroll, have a cuppa with Denver after work or add a sandwich and call it dinner, take a nighttime stroll or whatever else she’d put in the box and end it. Damn, she’d really wanted to help push Tanya toward some happiness.

“Fine. I give in. Do I have to go first?”

The crowd answered in no uncertain terms.

Lindsay smiled and closed her eyes as Brooke led her to the box and guided her hand in among the ribbon-tied scrolls Lindsay had assembled in the wee hours of the morning. She groped briefly, aiming for the right corner, where the coffee date scrolls should be. “Got one.”

Cheering, the crowd craned forward eagerly. Lindsay held the scroll teasingly aloft. “Anyone want to know what it says?”

The resulting roar made her laugh. She unrolled the paper, prepared for the familiar words.

They weren’t there.

She read, read again, read a third time, her laughter choking into dread. Oh no.

Her arms dropped. She looked up at her half sisters, each wearing a knowing grin, though Brooke’s was slightly anxious.

They were onto her. They knew she planted the scrolls. Somehow they’d gotten to the box and had changed them to much bawdier dares, similar to the one clenched in her hand.

“Read it!” someone shouted.

“Look at her face. It must be good,” added another voice.

Lindsay forced a smile, afraid she was either going to cry or throw up or both. She brought the paper up again with shaking hands and read out loud.

“Seduce the man you’re most attracted to. Tonight.”

LINDSAY SAT WITH HER HALF SISTERS in her favorite part of Chassy, a curtained small room off the main bar lined with banquettes on the sides and with four tiny tables in the center. The main attraction was a fireplace on the outer wall. At this time of year when cold reigned supreme outdoors no matter how ready the inhabitants were for spring, the room was cozy, intimate and relatively quiet. Especially now near closing when the music had been downshifted and the volume pulled back. Only a few stragglers remained at the bar.

The last of the Martinis and Bikinis club had departed ten minutes earlier. Brooke had called a private powwow before her sisters left.

“Lindsay, I just wanted you to know that all of us know exactly how you’re feeling right now.”

“Amen.” Joey nodded vigorously. “When I pulled the slip saying I had to reveal my deepest darkest secret to Sebastian…”

“And when I found out I had to strip in public…” Brooke shuddered comically.

“And when I found out I had to have sex in a forbidden place…” Katie’s attempt at looking horrified failed as her features turned dreamy and distant.

“Katie, stay with us here.” Brooke snapped her fingers in front of her sister’s face, then focused again on Lindsay. “The point is we’ve each lived the same stomach-curling—”

“Head-throbbing—”

“Teeth-clenching—”

“—dread that you are.” Brooke grinned. “Any of this sounding familiar?”

Lindsay released her jaw and put a hand to her throbbing head, acutely aware of her stomach’s distress. “Yes.”

“So we’re here to tell you that it’s all going to be okay.”

Lindsay nodded. Right. Everything was going to be okay. Everything always was okay if you were a Winfield. She knew firsthand that wanting things to be okay did not always make them okay. Yet she was the reason her half sisters all had to do those frightening and difficult dares. She’d played the bold matchmaker the same way they were doing now. And there was no way she could let them down not playing by the same rules they’d played by.

She just couldn’t bear it if Denver turned her down. Or worse, if he let her seduce him and then disappeared, or let her seduce him and took over her life. Or—

“Right now you’re going over every possible thing that could go wrong, aren’t you?”

Lindsay laughed unwillingly and nodded at Katie.

“Oh, I was soooo there.”

“I don’t think anything will go wrong. We all saw the way he was looking at you. He’ll jump at the chance to, um, get to know you better.”

The sisters burst out laughing at Brooke’s careful wording.

“What guy wouldn’t?” Joey’s playful words froze Lindsay’s smile. Right. She’d experienced too many guys that would. This time she wanted…

Wait. She wanted to be more than that to Denver? She knew where that led. When she fell for a guy she lost herself, let him run all over her, control her, then he’d leave and break her heart. Only Ty had stayed, but his control had become more and more extreme until it became dangerous.

No feelings could enter into this seduction. The only way she’d survive would be to stay as icily detached as possible. Then if Denver rejected her, whether before or after, it wouldn’t hurt. She’d stay untouched. She had to make sure that sex between them didn’t matter.

Even better, what if the sex really didn’t matter? The dare hadn’t mentioned Denver by name. The sisters assumed, but what if…

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?” Her half sisters leaned eagerly forward.

Lindsay’s mind spun. Would it be a mistake or simply the lesser of two evils? “You know, Justin is actually hotter than Denver. I’ve always thought he was—”

“Oh right.”

“Pleez.”

“Don’t even try.”

She made a face. Okay, so Winfields were too smart to be fooled that easily. The dare had said the man she was most attracted to. Denver might as well be a magnet tuned in for her polarity.

“Lindsay?” Her personal magnet appeared at the curtained doorway and Lindsay’s heart pounded so painfully she nearly winced. “Hey, Brooke, Joey, Katie.”

“Hi-i-i, Den-ver.” The three made his name come out like a singsong grade school chant.

He grinned. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Oh yes.” Brooke got up and sent her sisters significant looks. “We had a great time, didn’t we.”

“A most excellent time. Lindsay will have to tell you all about it.” Katie got up. “Because we’re going home now.”

“Yes, we are. We had tons o’ fun.” Joey blinked demurely at Denver. “But not as much fun as you are go—”

“Thanks for staying.” Lindsay sent Joey a murderous look she knew would make her most outspoken sister laugh. The three women hugged Lindsay with their usual warmth. She managed to hug back, feeling as if she were saying final farewells before her trip to the gallows.

“Relax and have fun,” Brooke whispered. “I think he really cares about you.”

She nodded dumbly. That concept scared her the most. Cared about her how? As a friend? Little sister? Or more…

All of it scared her. Looking back on her life, on the emotional and physical abuse, the fear running away from the only home she’d known, the stupid things she’d done in fast succession after that, all of which had gone horribly wrong, the terror of exposure from Gina for Ty’s death…all that, and she didn’t think she’d ever felt quite this frightened in her life.

Denver waved at the trio and turned back to Lindsay. The firelight flickered over his face making him look strong and dangerous. The room felt suddenly hot and way too small. “Seems like everything went great tonight.”

“Yes. Yes. Amazingly well.” Her voice sounded high and slightly panicked. She suddenly felt as if she had too many hands, and no place to put them. “Thanks for your help.”

“It’s my job, Lindsay.”

“I know, but…well, I mean it doesn’t have to be your job and you do it really well and so I wanted you to know that—” Geez. She might be many things, but babbling fool didn’t usually make the list. “—so I appreciate it.”

“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his eyes, staring unrelentingly. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I have no idea. But you’re acting funny.”

Yeah, she was a laugh riot. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Anything happen? With your sisters?”

Way too much. “Everything’s fine.”

“I see.” He tightened his lips. “And that’s why you look as if you just lost your best friend.”

“Honestly, Denver. I’m fine. My half sisters are fine. Everything is fine.” She waved a hand in exasperation, aware that this was not the most auspicious beginning for a seduction. “I have not lost my best friend.”

But after what had to happen tonight, she was desperately afraid she would.


3

“THANKS. YOU CAN JUST PUT them there.” Lindsay pointed to the corner of the living room in her beautiful two-bedroom apartment upstairs from Chassy. A far cry from any living situation she’d ever had. She couldn’t count the number of couches she’d slept on, the roach-infested tiny rooms she’d shared, the basements she’d crashed in after leaving her parents’ home. As much as that life seemed at times to have been lived by someone else, she still had to remind herself frequently that this beautiful place actually belonged to her.

Scott and Laura Downing, the couple who sold her the building for next to nothing, had been fastidious owners. She hadn’t had to do anything but paint the walls, all of which had been shades of white much too demure for her taste. A strange combination of eagerness and reluctance to put down roots—not to mention spend money—had gotten her about halfway to furnishing the place. Finally she could describe it as spare instead of empty. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

She had to admit the place looked good with Denver in it. She’d lured him up by asking for help carrying boxes of table lamps and pictures left over from when the bar had belonged to the Downings. The boxes weren’t bothering anyone piled at the back of the storeroom downstairs, but she had to entice Denver up on some pretext and she wasn’t going to suggest etchings.

Her first plan had been to jump him downstairs and get it over with, but she’d never be able to behave normally at work if the desk or table or chair they were near held such an erotic connotation.

Better up here or maybe in the guest room, which Scott and Laura had left furnished since their condo in Naples was one bedroom smaller. Or perhaps on the new couch in the living room where she’d ask him to sit. She rarely went into the guest room, which made it a good choice. However, the couch didn’t invite long-term occupancy the way a bed did.

Okay. The couch.

So. On with the show. She could fake it, of course, have Denver go back downstairs with nothing more than a friendly g’bye and tell her half sisters and the rest of the girls that they’d been at it all night long, but lying wasn’t her thing. Brooke, Joey and Katie would be on to her in a heartbeat once they started demanding details. In any case, her newfound sense of honor and her enjoyment of the whole Martinis and Bikinis concept wouldn’t let her get away with that for long.

Best just to go for the kill. Close her eyes and think of Boston. The only way she’d get through the seduction of Denver Langston intact was by not allowing herself to care. Nothing good had ever come from her letting down her guard with men. Nothing.

“All set.” He straightened, having set the box next to her most recent acquisition, the burgundy microfiber couch. It had cost way too much but made a fabulous accent in front of the dark orangey-yellow wall. The perfect place to get down and dirty for a quick half hour or so.

“Great, thank you.” Three…two…one… “Would you like a drink, Denver?”

Blast off.

Her words—maybe her pointed use of his name—made his eyes jump from the rack of DVDs he’d been examining to hers. “A drink?”

She took in a breath and forced herself to stay calm. Justin thought she had ice surrounding her? How about Antarctica? “Yes, drink. Glass containing liquid, preferably alcoholic, intended to be consumed orally.”

He chuckled and put his hands on his hips in that manly-man way he did. “I’d love a drink. Whadya got?”

“Most everything.”

He narrowed his eyes, challenging. “Irish whiskey?”

“Jameson’s?”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“Yes.” She held his gaze for a sensual beat. “I am.”

She knew without looking at him that his eyes followed her to the built-in cabinet that housed her meager supply of rarely touched booze. Already he’d noticed the change and was wondering what was going on.

Before she opened the cabinet, she kicked out of her shoes and took off her black sweater, exposing a black short-sleeved top that hung just to the waistband of her black pants. The next layer would come off soon. Then the next. After that, no more layers.

“Water? Ice? Straight up?”

“Straight up.”

She poured him two fingers of Jameson’s and one for herself, noting with irony the company’s motto, Sine Metu, which Justin had once explained to her meant “Without Fear.”

“Cheers.” She handed Denver his drink without fear, clinked with him and took a sip, enjoying the rare treat. She still liked the taste of alcohol, but no longer wanted to tangle with its effects.

“Want to sit?” She pointed to the couch and sat at one end, leaning back against the arm. “Thanks again for your help tonight.”

“You’re welcome. How did Natalie like her dare?”

“She…took it fine. Of course she was embarrassed. I can tell she really wants this guy she works out with. And when a woman wants a man, I think she should go after him.” She tipped her head to one side and took the elastic out of her ponytail so her long hair swung free. “Don’t you think?”

Again the narrow-eyed gaze. “Depends.”

She straightened and made a show of tossing the hair back from her face. He was watching every move she made. Intently. She found herself both excited by what she had to do and dismayed by how it could affect their friendship. She tried as hard as she could to suppress any signs of that conflict. Keep it easy, purely sexual. She’d done that routine many times before. Too many to be proud of. “Depends on what?”

“What she’s up to.” He gestured slightly toward her with his drink. “And why.”

Lindsay faltered for a second, then gave a careless shrug. “What she’s up to is getting the guy. Why is obvious. She’s attracted to him. Wants him. Lusts.”

The tiniest compression of his lips before he spoke. “I guess it can be that simple.”

But it’s usually not, was the unspoken ending to his sentence and she was starting to think he wasn’t talking about Natalie and her lab partner any more than she was.

“What kind of dare would you choose for me?”

He frowned, not the reaction she’d hoped for. “That’s easy. I’d dare you to tell me what you’re doing right now.”

She gave him a sultry smile to hide her uneasiness. “Right now? Talking to you.”

He didn’t smile back. “Okay.”

What had she expected? That a perceptive guy like Denver wouldn’t think it was odd when her entire personality changed in the course of an hour?

Damn it. She wanted this whole night back to do over. She could catch her half sisters in the act of swapping dare slips and instead have been able to send Tanya home with a stomach full of butterflies over what she’d have to do the next day when her science guy showed up to work.

Still…she had to get this done. Get the seduction over with and get back to life as usual, if God would grant her that luxury after what she was about to perpetrate. “So…Denver.”

“So…Lindsay.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you and I did something…” She pulled at the hem of her shirt until it came off over her head. She made herself appear relaxed again, wearing only a black cotton camisole. “…about what’s between us?”

He froze, one, two, three seconds, then his eyes wandered over her bare arms, down over her breasts, half exposed by the low thin material, and back up to her face. The tension was so thick that she shuddered when he put his drink down on her coffee table. Which left his hands free. Didn’t it.

Would he take the lead now? Take her hard and fast, then say thanks, babe, it was great, and let’s do it again sometime and good night?

A girl could only hope…

He didn’t. He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned against the back of the couch, eyes narrowed. If this was a movie, he’d be about to say, “make my day.”

“Is that a no?”

He shook his head, his gaze pinning her so that she had to force herself not to squirm guiltily. Not a no. Which meant it was a yes?

She didn’t know whether she felt relief or not.

“Mmm, good.” She put her hand on the iron of his thigh and started a slow path toward where it counted, getting more and more jittery when he just sat there, staring at her.

Okay. Fine. Whatever he was into, she’d make it work. She’d probably encountered just about every kind of guy out there along the tortured, unhappy path she’d chosen to walk before Ty’s death, and done just about everything there was to do at least once. He couldn’t surprise her.

She let her hand linger near his fly and was rewarded with instant swelling between his legs. To her surprise, she reacted nearly as strongly, arousal starting a low burn between hers.

Down, girl. Keep it under control.

“You like this?”

“Yes.” The syllable was curt; he still hadn’t moved otherwise. But as long as he wasn’t objecting…

“How about this?” Her palm moved over the long, narrow bulge in his jeans. She took in a sharp breath, unprepared for her own reaction, though she’d anticipated his. Stroking him gently up and down, she leaned forward, dipping one shoulder so her strap would slide off and her hair would make a solid curtain behind her profile.

His hips moved up slightly; his breathing became audible. Her arousal matched his pace, maybe because it had been a long time for her. She unsnapped his jeans, drew the zipper down more hurriedly than she’d intended, dipped her hand in to savor his warmth and his hardness through his black cotton briefs.

“Lindsay.” His voice was husky.

“Mmm?” She bent down and kissed his erection, her lips lingering.

“Why are you doing this?”

She tugged his jeans down, reached for the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down to expose him. He was beautiful. Thick and long and tipped faintly pink. Her hunger grew. “Because I want you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“I have figured it out. What I haven’t figured out is why tonight.”

“You know a better time?” She pressed her face against his length, inhaled his scent, then opened her mouth and slid it along his erection aiming for the tip to take him fully into her—

He grabbed her shoulders and had her half lying across the back of the couch under him so quickly that she couldn’t control her terror reaction, and heard herself make the choked cry she hadn’t had to let out in a long time.

“Where is this coming from, Lindsay?”

She swallowed the thickness in her throat, telling herself over and over that this was Denver, this was different, he was emotional not dangerous, confused not enraged until the urge to plead for mercy left her and she could feel as impassive as she was struggling to appear. “What are you talking about?”

“Months, Lindsay. Months of dancing around this, avoiding me, shutting me out, and now suddenly you’re all hot to give me a blow job? What the hell happened?”

“I thought…you’d like it.”

“Geezus, Lindsay. Of course I’d like it. I’m a guy. But I think we skipped a few parts of this equation. Like spending time together first—you wouldn’t even come swimming with me. Like talking about something other than work. Or…” His voice dropped lower; he fixed his gaze on her mouth. “…like kissing.”

No. Not kissing. Not sweetness. Not affection. No feeling. She made another desperate sound and threw herself to the opposite end of the couch, arms crossed around her chest.

“What the—” He held his hands up, surrendering.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could have messed this up more, but she didn’t think so. Why couldn’t he just let her show him a good time? Why did he have to make this about anything except screwing her so she could fulfill her dare?

“I’m sorry.” She sat up ramrod straight, the way she had refused to do during adolescence for her furious mom. “This was not a good idea. I knew it wasn’t, but I—”

“Lindsay.” His voice was slow, gentle, talking nicey-nice to the completely insane woman. She didn’t blame him. “Let’s get back to our whiskey. Back to talking. Back to normal. Tomorrow you can come swimming with me after work or I’ll come up here again or I’ll take you to lunch one day before work. Maybe a lot of days, maybe one or two late night dinners and we’ll see what happens. Let this go more naturally and a lot slower.”

She bit her lip. How the hell was she supposed to tell him that was the last thing she wanted to do?

Or…maybe next to last. Or maybe…

It couldn’t happen. He was talking relationship and all she could handle in her life right now was sex. If it wasn’t for the dare, she wouldn’t even choose to handle that.

“I’m sorry, Denver. It’s not like that. I was just looking to get laid and I thought you were too. You were nice enough to help me bring the boxes up here, you were looking really good, I was horny and I thought maybe you’d be up for it. But the whole sweetheart dating, kissing thing? No. Sorry. Not a good plan. Not for me.”

She finished, pretty pleased with herself. Guys understood the need to get laid. He’d get it. She’d be off the hook and they could get back to—

“Why not?”

Her pleasure started to evaporate. “Why not what?”

“Why isn’t the ‘whole sweetheart dating, kissing thing’ a good idea?”

Crap. He had that look back, the one where he thought he already knew the answer but just wanted to go through the formality of having her say it out loud. Maybe men thought acting as though they knew you better than you did was sexy. She had to mark it down as one of the most irritating characteristics they possessed.

“Because…” Her mind failed. She couldn’t come up with a single reason, especially not with him sitting in her living room with his pants undone, firm skin showing at his abdomen, a slight flush to his cheeks, eyes intently dark, handsome and so damn noble. “It’s not what I want.”

“Ah. Okay, then.” He got up abruptly and the force of the pain squeezing into her chest startled her. “It is what I want so until one of us changes his or her mind I guess this isn’t going to happen, huh.”

His tone was offhand, but his look said he was asking her a question, not making a statement.

“Right.” She nodded, wishing he’d leave so she could throw herself onto her bed and let this new troubling misery have its way with her. What had she done here? What had she unleashed? She should have followed her instincts and refused to take a dare. Everything was going so well before this…

Still she couldn’t have gone back on the dare without undermining the organization that had done so much not only to empower its members but for her as well. How else could she have met and become friendly with so many strong, interesting women? Her acquaintances prior to this had been pretty unappealing. Now she felt part of a community that had more on its mind than sex, drugs and rebellion.

More importantly, how else could she have gracefully and anonymously made contact with her half sisters? One invitation sent out to each of them last September had been the perfect way to introduce them to her, though only Katie took her up on joining at first. Bottom line, she’d had no choice but to accept the dare. Now she was paying a price. Another one.

Denver put his pants back together, drained the rest of his drink and took the glass and hers into the kitchen like the good bar manager he was.

At the door he turned, gaze probing again, asking her the question that must be going through his head. What the hell had happened to make her suddenly act the way she did? Was she that disturbed? “Good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Lindsay nodded and managed a smile. “Good night.”

She closed the door after him. Maybe he’d give up now. Maybe he’d decide she was some kind of lunatic and give up and leave her alone.

The thought sucked her into a whirlpool of loneliness and fear. What would her life be without Denver’s constant support and concern? The support and concern she regularly stepped on and rejected and only now realized how much she relied on?

She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes.

And what the hell was she going to do about the dare?


4

DENVER TOSSED BACK WHAT he knew should be his last shot of tequila. Except he knew the shot before should have definitely been the last one and the one before that certainly should have been the last one too. Hell, he shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Vito’s Pub, a ridiculous name if ever there was one. The kind of place that stayed open too late for pathetic drunks.

Like ohhhh, saaaay…him.

He hadn’t tied one on like this since the night he broke off his engagement to Jenna. Every second of that horrible conversation would linger in his mind until the day he died—her tears, her begging, the stabbing guilt. Then her abrupt transition into rage and accusations, mostly unfounded, though a few had hit their mark. He remembered every second of his trip back to New Haven on the train, then his cab ride from the station to Naples, the Yale campus bar. After that, things got blurry fast. The next morning he’d woken up naked on the bathroom floor of his dorm with no memory of how he’d gotten there. That had seemed like a pretty good time to decide he’d done enough drinking to last him a lifetime. After that it had been no more than two drinks, no matter what, no matter where, no matter who with. Or with whom. Or who whatever.

Until tonight. See how much goodness and joy Lindsay Beckham had brought into his life? Exactly…none. Nothing but frustration, emotionally, sexually…whatever other lys there were that he couldn’t think of right now.

No more. Enough. He was finished. Done. Operation Lindsay was terminated. She could stay icy and shut down forever. The next day he’d turn in his resignation at Chassy. And why did she call it that anyway? Screw it. Screw her. Or rather no, no screwing her.

That thought hurt too.

He was disgusted with himself for spending a whole year of sniveling after her over and over again. Please open up to me, Lindsay. Please tell me your problems. Tonight was the worst. “I can’t have sex without emotion, Lindsay. Kiss me first, tell me you love me…”

That was it. He was turning into a girlie-man. No, she was turning him into a girlie-man. If he was going to do that, he might as well become gay so he wouldn’t have to deal with women at all anymore.

Crap. He needed to go home. No, he needed a cold swim. He was losing it.

He got up unsteadily and paid for his drinks, staggered in the doorway and caught his shoulder hard on the jamb. Maybe driving wasn’t a great idea. He’d leave his car here and cab it out to Brookline.

Half an hour later, he’d managed to hail a cab, remember his parents’ address, pay the driver and make his way through frosty air that smelled like snow to the Robinsons, next door to the small house his parents had moved into after he left home. They’d wanted to keep a residence in Massachusetts but intended to spend most of their time traveling the world. Which they had. They’d be back in March from their year in Paris, London and Greece. By then he’d better have a plan for the rest of his life to avoid being a thirty-five-year-old man who still lived with Mommy and Daddy.

He used his key and pushed open the sliding door to the pool, stripped naked, nearly falling on his face when he tried to balance on one leg to take off his pants. Then he dove in, swam a few furious if sloppy laps, then a few more, feeling his head clearing slightly. Finally he climbed onto the raft, only slipping off once, and lay back watching the clouds overhead.

Between Lindsay’s behavior tonight and the threat of parental cohabitation, he would finally get his act together, leave Chassy and do what he was meant to do in a place that would appreciate what he had to offer. Then he’d—

“Well, hello-o-o.”

Adrenaline preceded his rational reaction. What the hell was Adele doing here again tonight? He’d never encountered her two nights in a row. It must be nearly two o’clock.

“Nice night for a swim.”

“Yeah.” He slid back into the water, annoyed. He couldn’t help it. He’d wanted to be alone to think. Or alone so he didn’t have to. One of those. “Where d’you come from every night?”

“I’m in the neighborhood.”

“Which house?”

“My uncle lives down the street. I’m visiting for a while.” She lifted her shirt over her head, and his drunken brain registered that her bathing suit didn’t look like a bathing suit. “I’m just back from a party and felt like a swim before bed. I had the cab drop me here.”

She undid her jeans and stepped out of them. The bottom half of her bathing suit didn’t look like a bathing suit either. “I hope you don’t mind but I didn’t bother getting my suit. I didn’t want to wake my uncle just to get it and then wake him again when I got home after.”

Her underwear was lacy, he couldn’t tell what color in the dim light. Maybe black, maybe red, very skimpy. He suddenly remembered he didn’t have a suit on either. Why hadn’t he done as she did and kept his underwear on?

Because he didn’t know she’d show up, wasn’t thinking she might. So fine, he’d stay in the water where she couldn’t see anything and hope she left soon. She could swim in her underwear, and he’d—

Except… He swallowed convulsively. She was taking her underwear off.

Clouds hid the moon tonight, but the lamp outside of the pool area cast enough of a gleam that he could see…well, he could see. Her breasts were large and full with small dark nipples; the hair between her legs was waxed into a tiny strip. Her shape he already knew was stunning.

She shouldn’t get in the pool naked with him. He wanted to say something but he was caught in the stupid male tug-of-war between what his brain recognized as the right thing to do and what his dick did.

She climbed down into the water, step by step on the ladder, her fabulous curving ass swinging provocatively and swam toward him. He didn’t resist. Not when she wrapped her legs around him, not when she gave a tiny exclamation—not of disappointment—when she realized what he didn’t have on either.

Suddenly his brain shut down, his hands went to her waist, then slid up beside her breasts, which seemed to hold him in some kind of stupid enthralled enchantment. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep himself from wanting to touch. His thumbs slid over her nipples—he swore his damn thumbs were acting on their own. This wasn’t him. Why wouldn’t his brain work? Her head dropped back in the kind of rapture that looked really fake, like she’d watched too many porn movies.

He moved his thumbs back to her sides. His mind restarted. This wasn’t real. This wouldn’t be anything more than making love to a great pair of tits.




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