Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Old Enough To Know Better

Old Enough To Know Better
Vicki Lewis Thompson


When twenty-year-old PR exec Kasey Braddock accepts her coworkers' dare to hit on the gorgeous new landscaper, she's excited. Finally here's her chance to prove to her friends–and herself–that she's woman enough to entice a man and leave him drooling. After all, she's old enough to know what she wants–and she wants Sam Ashton…badly.And Sam is more than willing to be wanted. The chemistry between them is powerful, explosive. Still, there's something vaguely familiar about Kasey, something Sam can't put his finger on–although he's dying to get his hands all over her…. But he's not worried. He fully intends to enjoy uncovering all Kasey's secrets, one by one. But will the truth be too hot for him to handle?









“I want more nights like last night,” Sam said


He knew he was probably a sucker for trying to nurture something that had “short-term fling” written all over it, but Kasey had turned him inside out in the space of twenty-four hours.

Heat flashed in her eyes. “But you’re…you’re a client.”

“I’ll stay completely out of your office. You’ll take care of the account and no one has to know that we’re having mind-blowing sex at the same time. That will be our little secret,” he promised.

Her breathing quickened. “You really won’t tell anyone?”

“No one. We’ll just get together to discuss the PR campaign and have great sex, and no one will be the wiser.” Although that wasn’t the way he would have preferred it, Sam could tell the concept excited her. Now, if only his suggestion was convincing enough to get her back into his bed. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d better take me back to the office.”

His heart sank. “That’s a no?”

She smiled. “It’s a yes. And if you don’t take me back to work immediately, I might jump you right here….”


Dear Reader,

Whoops, I blinked and twenty years went by! How is that possible? It seems like only yesterday that I sold my first Temptation novel. Back when I was just a child. I guess that cliché about time flying when you're having fun must be true, because I’m having so much fun that time hasn’t merely flown by—it’s traveled at the speed of light!

And the fact remains, no matter how I flip the calendar around, that my first book, Mingled Hearts, Temptation #9, came out in May 1984. Writing for Temptation was a good thing then, and it’s an even better thing now.

So consider this book you’re holding as the official beginning of my next twenty years. Happy birthday, Temptation!

Warmly,

Vicki Lewis Thompson




Old Enough to Know Better

Vicki Lewis Thompson







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


The book is dedicated with gratitude to all the Temptation editors who for twenty years have helped make my books the best they can be, with special affection and thanks to Claire Gerus, Margaret Carney, Lisa Boyes, Susan Till, Birgit Davis-Todd and, of course, Brenda Chin.




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17




1


“HOTTIE ALERT!”

Kasey Braddock glanced up. While the two guys in the office made remarks about female chauvinists, all the women hurried to where Gretchen Davies, a gutsy woman with a great laugh, had her nose pressed to the glass of the second-floor window. Moans of appreciation sounded in chorus.

Deciding from everyone’s reaction that the view was worth checking out, Kasey punched the save button on her computer and walked toward the window. She’d been working on a PR campaign for a lingerie shop that wanted to shift its image—more Victoria’s Secret, less Frederick’s of Hollywood.

Hours of careful research on the subject of lace teddies and thong underwear had reminded her that she’d been seriously neglecting the goal she’d set for herself: to become the woman she’d always wanted to be. Sure, she’d worked on her appearance but she had yet to launch her personal campaign to act as sexy as she now looked. The nerd that still lurked inside seemed to be giving orders to the babe she’d become on the outside. Maybe ogling a fine example of Phoenix manhood would jump-start the new Kasey.

“Okay, my turn.” She approached the cluster of five women blocking her view. “Two of you aren’t eligible, anyway, so give a single girl a break.”

“I was only saving you a good spot.” Brandy Larson’s fiancé, Eric Lassiter, was out of the office on an appointment, and she looked suitably guilty as she moved aside to make room for Kasey. “Try not to drool on the window,” she murmured.

“Hey, Brandy, I’m telling Eric.” Ed Finley leaned on the watercooler and observed the commotion.

“Don’t go being a tattletale, Ed.” Kasey gave him a warning glance, hoping he wasn’t serious.

“Aw, I’m just kidding, Kase.” Ed flashed her a peace sign.

“Glad to hear it.” Kasey held her own in this boisterous office, but she wondered if that would still be the case if everyone knew she was only twenty. She’d finished college at eighteen. After thoroughly evaluating all the PR firms in the Valley, she’d targeted Beckworth, landing the job before her nineteenth birthday. Only the big boss, Mr. Arnold Beckworth himself, knew her age. She wanted to keep it that way, so she’d continue to be treated as an equal.

“Ten bucks says he takes his shirt off in the next five minutes.” Gretchen clutched a file folder to her ample chest as she stared outside.

Kasey finally took a look. “My God, it’s Tarzan with a chain saw.” Right at eye level, a really cute dark-haired guy stood balanced in a large mesquite tree. As the pruned branches toppled to the ground fifteen feet below, a couple of other workers cut them into smaller sections and loaded them into the back of a trailer.

His square jaw clenched, safety goggles making him look seriously macho, Trimmer Guy gripped his chain saw and made precision cuts. His muscles bunched under a sweat-stained T-shirt.

“I’ll take that bet,” said Amy Whittenburg, a forty-something divorcee with very red hair. “That’s a company logo on the back of his shirt. Ashton Landscaping probably requires their employees to keep the shirts on to promote the company.”

“I have to say he’s promoting that company in a mighty fine manner,” said Myra Detmar, the receptionist. “Mighty fine. Look at those shoulders. Too bad he’s wearing gloves. We can’t check out his ring finger.”

“There you go again, making a sex object out of some poor slob,” called Jerry Peters from his desk across the room. “If a bunch of guys acted the way you women act, we’d be crucified.” Balding and on the pudgy side, Jerry always chimed in with a dose of indignation during a Hottie Alert.

“Oh, bite me,” Gretchen shot back. “Between the insulation and the noise of his saw, he can’t hear a word we say, and with the reflective coating on this window he can’t even see us. It’s like watching a movie.”

“More like Candid Camera,” Jerry said. “I think I’ll wander out there and ask him if he knows there’s a huddle of rabid females on the other side of the glass pretending he’s the star attraction at Chippendale’s.”

Gretchen turned to glare at Jerry. “You do and you’ll never get another double chocolate espresso on my coffee run, bub.”

“Well, Tarzan’s adorable,” said Robbi Harrison, who’d returned from her honeymoon a week ago, “but I’m so spoken for. I’ll have to leave him for the rest of you.” She walked back to her desk. “I just had to take a peek for old time’s sake.”

“I tell you, that Ashton Landscaping shirt is comin’ off,” Gretchen said. “It’s gotta be at least ninety out there, and handling that chain saw can’t be easy. Look, he’s turned it off and propped it in the crotch of the tree.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” Kasey winked at her.

Gretchen laughed. “Mark my words, he’s thinking about losing the shirt.”

“I’m betting another ten that he does,” Kasey said, joining in the ever-popular game. She studied the shirt in question. Ashton Landscaping was stenciled on the back in green script. She tried to think why the name Ashton sounded familiar. Even the guy looked like someone she should know. Information was working its way in from the far reaches of her memory, but it wasn’t quite there yet.

“As long as we’re throwing down bets,” said Amy, “we might as well draw straws for him, too, in case he turns out to be available.”

“Un-freaking-believable,” Jerry muttered. “It’s the straws again.”

“It’s the only fair way to handle a Hottie Alert,” Gretchen said. “Robbi, we need you back over here. You can be the designated straw holder.”

Kasey’s heart began to pound. She’d have to take part in the straw thing or lose face. So far, she’d never ended up with the long straw, so she hadn’t been required to go out and ask whatever hottie they were ogling for a date. Mostly she’d been relieved not to be forced into doing it. Then again, maybe peer pressure was the best way to launch her new persona.

“Here you go.” Robbi came up beside them. She held out her hand, and four stubs of paper sprouted from her closed fist. “May the best woman win.”

Kasey gazed at the stubs of paper. It was like a game of chicken. The idea was for the lucky gal to go out with the guy and make him drool without her handing over the goods. But twice since Kasey had started working at Beckworth, a woman had taken the dare and ended up engaged. Kasey wasn’t about to let that happen to her.

Yet she was at a distinct disadvantage considering her age and the fact that until she’d graduated from college she’d been nerd-girl. She wasn’t a virgin, but she’d never been assertive with guys and never been in demand. Her first job had seemed like the perfect time to start over and create a whole new Kasey Braddock, though, so far, she’d really done nothing more than change her look.

A long straw would put her goal to change her image to the ultimate test, and maybe it was time. Taking a deep breath, she reached for a stub of paper and hoped for the long straw.



SAM ASHTON LOVED taking a mangy-looking mesquite with good bones and transforming it into a sculptural work of art. He’d turn over other pruning jobs to his workers, but he didn’t trust anyone else to make the right cuts on a beauty like this one. Besides, he’d never outgrown the joy of climbing trees.

While he worked, he thought about the woman he’d noticed this morning parking her little red Miata in the lot next to the building. He’d been lounging in his truck drinking coffee while he waited for his employees to arrive at the job site. During down times, he usually thought about ways to boost business.

More business would be good for him, but even better for his little brother’s band, which desperately needed a backer. Although Colin and the other band members operated on a shoestring, the Tin Tarantulas had created a Gen-Y fan base in the Phoenix area, and Sam would love to help them buy better equipment and record a demo. They had the potential to make it.

He’d been daydreaming about that when here came trouble, pulling into a space in the next row, lining up exactly in front of him. The red convertible said look at me, but as if that weren’t enough, the vanity plate announced that the blond woman driving it was SO REDY.

Sam’s pulse rate had picked up. He’d always been a sucker for a woman in a red ragtop, and one who announced she was “so ready” had real promise. He’d sipped his coffee as she’d flipped down her visor, pulled off her shades and run a comb through sleek hair that hung straight to the shoulders of her white suit jacket. When she’d dabbed on some lip gloss from an applicator wand, he’d figured it was likely as red as the car, even though he couldn’t see for sure.

He hadn’t dated much in the past few months, mostly because he was getting picky. These days if a relationship had no potential, he backed away much faster than he used to. At thirty, he didn’t care to waste time on dead ends anymore. His last girlfriend hadn’t been ready to settle down, partly because of her age. He had to admit there was a big gap between twenty-three and thirty.

But even though he’d started thinking in terms of the M word, he was still a typical guy, and visuals snagged him first. Yeah, he should be willing to ignore the figure and see into a woman’s soul. He wasn’t quite that evolved yet.

Therefore he’d waited to see what kind of body went with the red car, the shiny hair and the saucy license plate before he committed himself to being interested. At last she’d opened her door. With his first glimpse of leg, his interest had shot up exponentially.

He’d returned his travel mug to its holder in the console and wrapped both arms around the steering wheel as he’d leaned forward. What followed was an outstanding view of the cutest ass ever to grace a bucket seat, wrapped in a short white skirt that was barely legal. Thank God, the mini was still in fashion.

After closing her door, she’d reached over to grab her shoulder bag from the passenger seat. Excellent. Sam watched with relish as the white material stretched across her bottom. Yowza. He’d gazed, enjoyed…and leaned on the horn. Immediately he’d backed off the wheel and the damned horn. He’d driven through a rural area yesterday and a bunch of bugs had done a kamikaze number on his windshield. He’d hoped that would keep her from seeing him clearly.

She’d turned and glanced over at his truck. Fortunately, because of the angle, she wouldn’t have been able to see the Ashton Landscaping lettered on the cab doors. He’d picked up the contract for today’s job and pretended to study it while he’d kept track of her from the corner of his eye. God, how uncool was that, to accidentally honk the horn. She’d shrugged and started toward the building, her hips swaying, her high-heeled sandals tapping on the asphalt.

Sam let out a breath. Before he finished today, he needed to find out who she was. If nothing else, he could leave a note taped to her steering wheel, but he’d rather talk to her face-to-face. As he pruned the mesquite tree, he wondered where her office might be, which one of the building’s tenants she worked for. Too bad the windows all had reflective glass, because from his perch he would be able to see into several of the building’s offices.

Then again, maybe the reflective glass was a good thing. If he got another eyeful of her, especially if she happened to be bending over a file drawer, he might tumble right out of the tree. She was one hot babe.

And speaking of hot, thinking about her while working like a farm animal had spiked his internal temperature. Sweat stung his eyes and rolled down his spine. Life would be a hell of a lot more pleasant without his shirt.

After turning off the saw, he propped it carefully in the crotch of the tree. Then he took off his work gloves and goggles and tucked them in beside the saw. Finally he braced his knees against the trunk for balance and reached for the hem of his shirt.



KASEY TUGGED on a stub of paper. And tugged, and tugged some more, until she stood holding the eight-inch strip that was clearly the long straw. The other three women groaned with disappointment.

Before Kasey could get her mind around the fact that she’d won, Gretchen gasped. “The shirt!”

All attention focused on the window once again as Tarzan of the Chain Saw took off his goggles, peeled his shirt from his back and draped it over a tree limb. A collective sigh went up from the group of women.

“I can see his ring finger,” said Myra in hushed tones. “No ring.”

Amy cleared her throat. “Didn’t notice. Too busy looking at his body to notice his fingers. Girls, behold a work of art.”

“Wouldn’t you know.” Gretchen gestured toward the window. “There’s the answer to my prayers, and here I stand with a freaking short straw.”

Kasey’s first impulse was to trade straws with Gretchen. This guy was way out of her league. Her dates had been few and far between, but they’d all been with braniacs, not jocks. And not a one of them had possessed a build to equal this. But trading straws was not an option, not if she wanted to polish her so-far-undeserved rep as a happening chick whose license plate announced she was SO REDY. A happening chick would use that long straw to claim her prize.

“He’s beyond gorgeous,” said Amy. “Look at that. Even a tattoo.”

Kasey screwed up her courage to take another look at her challenge du jour, who was currently mopping his face with his shirt. Sure enough, he had a tattoo on his upper arm that looked like a ring of barbed wire.

As she stared at that tattoo, her memory delivered the information she’d been trying to retrieve ever since her first glimpse out the window. She’d seen that tattoo twelve years ago, wrapped around the arm of her stepbrother Jim’s high school buddy, a dreamy guy by the name of Sam Ashton.

She could still picture the two teenagers out by the family’s budget-sized swimming pool, radio blaring as they worked on their tans before prom. She’d been the eight-year-old brat who’d spent the afternoon splashing them from her vantage point in the pool. Finally Sam had responded, diving in and giving her a thorough dunking.

The cut at the corner of her mouth had been totally her fault. If she hadn’t flailed around so much, she wouldn’t have whacked herself in the mouth with her secret decoder ring. The minute Sam had noticed she was bleeding, he’d rushed her into the house, both of them dripping all over her mother’s clean floor. Then he’d insisted on going with her to the emergency room, where the doctor had given her two small stitches.

Sam had sat right there, even though he’d looked decidedly green during the stitching process. He’d apologized about a hundred times. The next day he’d sent her a bouquet of flowers. That was when she’d fallen hopelessly in love as only an eight-year-old can fall for a sophisticated older man of eighteen.

After that she’d asked Jim endlessly when Sam was coming over again, but apparently finals and graduation had kept him too busy and he hadn’t made it back to their house that spring. Then Jim told her Sam’s family had moved to Oregon, and that’s where Sam would be going to college in the fall. Jim had left to join the Marines and the two friends had lost touch. Kasey hadn’t seen Sam again…until now.

“So, Kasey, what’s your game plan?” Gretchen asked.

Kasey blinked, pulling herself from the past, when she’d had a mad crush on Sam, to the present, when she was the designated Bad Girl from Beckworth out to put some serious moves on the guy. Aside from fighting her internal panic, she had to decide if there was the remotest chance he’d recognize her.

Probably not. Jim was her stepbrother, so they had different last names, and what were the chances Sam would remember a little pain in the ass named Kasey? Besides, she didn’t look anything like that eight-year-old. The scar was barely visible. Braces for her teeth, straightener for her frizzy blond hair and tinted contacts for her nearsightedness had all made a difference. Hormones and the good advice of Jim’s girlfriend Alicia, now his ex-girlfriend, had taken care of the rest.

Kasey had worked hard to look older and more experienced than she was. From her little red car to her sassy clothes, she’d created an image that required her to take charge of this assignment to snare Sam’s interest, and take charge fast.

“I think he looks hot, don’t you?” she asked Gretchen.

“Oh, honey, don’t you know it. And I need to hear what you intend to do about it. We have to live vicariously through you, so tell us your plan.”

“No, I mean he looks really hot.”

“That’s what I’m saying! So how are you—”

“I’m going to take him a nice cold bottle of water straight from the machine in the break room. I’ll get his attention first and then toss it up to him.”

Gretchen smiled. “Brilliant.”

“But then won’t he know we’ve been watching him?” Myra asked.

“He’ll know Kasey’s been watching him,” said Amy, “and I think that’s part of her strategy, right, Kase?”

It hadn’t been, but caught off guard, Kasey was happy to gather any words of wisdom on the art of seduction. “Of course.” She walked to her desk, grabbed some change from her wallet and headed for the break room, trailed by Gretchen, Myra and Amy.

“How’s your throwing arm?” Amy asked. “You don’t want to heave it up there like a weakling.”

“My arm’s good.” Kasey put the money in the machine and punched the button for bottled water. “My brother taught me to throw when I was a kid.”

“That’s lucky.” Gretchen nodded as the bottle thumped down the chute. “A wimpy throw wouldn’t help your cause.”

“You’d better get out there quick,” Myra said. “He’s starting up the saw again. He might not notice you down there if he’s cutting tree limbs.”

Sure enough, the whine of the chain saw drifted into the break room. Kasey thought fast. “Okay, I can deal with that.” She handed her bottle to Gretchen. “Hold on to this for a sec, okay?”

“Anything for you, toots.”

Kasey slipped out of her white suit jacket. Underneath she wore a stretch-lace shell that made the most of her breasts.

“That oughta do it,” Amy said. “Let him have it with both barrels, kid.”

Kasey had never been fond of the word kid as a nickname, maybe because it had been applied to her so often in the past. But she knew Amy didn’t mean it literally. Amy thought Kasey was in her mid-twenties, because that’s what Kasey had led everyone to believe.

“Thanks,” she said. “I will.” She took the bottle from Gretchen, then walked back into the office and tossed her jacket over her chair.

She didn’t even glance toward the window as she left the office, afraid seeing Sam there looking so yummy would weaken her nerve. The women in the office called after her with words of encouragement, while Jerry and Ed carried on some more about female chauvinists. Those taunts didn’t bother Kasey. She’d spent enough time observing her big brother to know that women had a long way to go before they caught up with the guys in that department.

What bothered her was fear, plain and simple. In theory, she was perfectly willing to do her share of ogling and assertive date-making. But to begin with Sam…that was more of a challenge than she could have envisioned in her wildest dreams.

If she could carry this off, though, without his ever knowing that she was the scrawny little pest he’d dunked in the pool all those years ago, that would be amazing. Making Sam drool would be more than a feather in her Bad Girl’s cap. Snagging the attention of a guy like Sam would be on the order of a damned plume.




2


ALTHOUGH SAM REQUIRED his workers to wear earplugs when they used the saw, he hated the damn things, so he fudged and left them out whenever he could get away with it. Fifteen feet in the air he could get away with it. That was probably the only reason he heard Carlos yelling at him over the loud buzz.

Turning off the switch with his thumb, he glanced down at his assistant. “What?”

“The lady wants to know if you’d like a bottle of water.” Carlos gestured to his left.

Sam pulled off his safety goggles and let them dangle around his neck as he peered through the branches. He almost dropped his saw. It was her, the woman with the red Miata.

Her blond hair gleamed in the morning sun. Not only that, she’d ditched the white jacket. That move was understandable in the heat, but the resulting view of twin beauties outlined by stretch lace had Sam grabbing for a tree limb to steady himself.

She lifted her beautiful face toward him, squinting in the sunlight. “Nice job!”

“Thanks!” Talk about nice. He was staring down at the most wonderful view of nice he’d seen in a long time.

“I thought you could use some water!” She held up a plastic bottle.

He could use a whole lot more than water. A cold shower would be good, and not because he was sweating, either. His strong attraction to her was a little embarrassing, to be honest. By his age he was supposed to be over this sort of reaction to a pretty girl. He’d seen plenty of pretty girls, even plenty of naked pretty girls. Yet he was mesmerized by this particular woman.

Maybe he’d developed heat stroke. He forced himself to engage in normal conversation instead of the caveman-speak that occurred to him. “Sure,” he said. “I’d love some water.” Now wasn’t the time to let her know he had several bottles of the stuff in a large cooler in his truck.

“I’ll toss it up,” she said.

“No, I’ll come down.” The way she’d messed with his concentration, he didn’t trust his hand-eye coordination right now. Nothing would be worse than missing the bottle she threw up to him.

Correction. Worse would be missing the bottle and falling out of the tree at the same time. Besides risking serious injury to his body, he could destroy his pride forever, not to mention his chances of dating this woman.

He left the saw propped in the tree. Then he took off the goggles and hung them on a branch before grabbing his shirt and pulling it on over his head. At last he started the climb down.

He’d never descended from a tree in front of an audience before, and self-consciousness made him clumsy. His foot slipped and he nearly fell. Grabbing a limb with both hands, he dangled for a humiliating second or two before finally relocating a supporting branch with one foot.

He could imagine Carlos and Murphy snickering behind their hands during this stellar performance. They both knew he had plenty of water in the truck. They knew because he always brought enough for all of them. Dehydration was a real danger working outside in Arizona.

But he was willing to look foolish in front of the guys and accept the bottled water from a woman he desperately wanted to meet. He would have liked to meet her when he was a little less fragrant, but he’d stand down-wind of her and hope for the best.

No sense missing a golden opportunity because he was sweaty. If all went as he hoped with this woman, they might end up sweaty together, eventually. Yes, he was getting ahead of himself, but this connection had fate written all over it.

He dropped to the ground and headed toward her, ignoring his two employees. If either of them took this moment to go to his truck and pull a bottle of water out of the ice chest, they’d be on fertilizer duty for the rest of the summer.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.” Her voice had a silky quality to it.

He liked silky. Silky usually meant a woman had a sensuous nature. “That’s okay. I needed to take a break, anyway.”

“I’ll bet. You look hot.”

So do you, sweet thing. Her eyes were a startling shade of blue, possibly helped along by tinted contacts. He liked the blue, although he wondered what color her eyes were, really. “But it’s a dry heat.”

“Yeah, right.” She laughed and held out the dripping bottle. “Here. This should help.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” He took the bottle, his hand brushing hers. He figured that was the idea. She’d obviously brought the water so they could have an interchange. As a way to meet a guy, it was clever.

“That’s me,” she said. “Kasey Lifesaver.”

“Kasey?” He unscrewed the top of the bottle. “Is that all one word or initials?”

“One word. K-a-s-e-y. Kasey.”

“Nice to meet you Ms. Kasey Lifesaver. I’m Sam Grateful.” He took a long drink of the water, gulping down half the bottle. Although he really was thirsty, the drinking moment gave him time to think. He’d ask her to dinner. Yeah, that was a good idea. Dinner. What about tonight? Did he have anything going?

Damn it, he did. The Tin Tarantulas had a gig in a little club downtown, and he’d promised to be there. He didn’t think taking a woman to hear his brother’s very loud rock band was right for a first date. So he’d ask for tomorrow night, although he hated to wait that long.

He took one last swallow, lowered the bottle and smiled at her. “Thanks. That was great.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Listen, in exchange for the water, how about if I—”

“So how come you climb around in the tree? Wouldn’t it be safer to use one of those cherry-picker things?”

Obviously he hadn’t impressed her with his coordination. “You mean because I almost took a header a minute ago? Usually I’m smoother than that.”

“You did give me a scare, but that isn’t what I meant. It seems dangerous to me, being up in the tree with a chain saw.”

“Well, I’m a professional.” That sounded stuffy, so he grinned and added, “Don’t try this at home.”

“Don’t worry about that! Just watching you makes me nervous.”

“Don’t be. I’ve logged a lot of hours in plenty of trees.” But her comment made him realize she probably worked in the office next to this tree and had been observing him from her window. That was gratifying. “I do use a cherry picker for some jobs, like palms and eucalyptus, but for big mesquites like this with an elaborate canopy, I’d rather get right into the tree so I can see how it needs to be shaped.”

“Oh.” She glanced over at the mesquite. “I guess there’s more to it than I thought.”

“Believe me, there’s more to it than I thought when I first started out.” He didn’t want to talk about his work, though. He wanted to ease back around to the subject of having dinner tomorrow night. “Listen, would you—”

“Are you by any chance free for dinner tonight?”

Oh, hell. Now she’d beaten him to it. “Not tonight, but tomorrow night, I’d love to.”

She hesitated. “Well, tomorrow night I have this…thing. Maybe the next night…no, wait a minute, there’s—”

“Hold on.” He could see they were losing steam, and he didn’t want that. “Let me tell you what I have to do tonight. You might be willing to go with me.”

“Okay.” She looked wary. “What is it?”

“My little brother has this rock band, and they’re playing tonight at the Cactus Club. It’s not exactly my kind of music—they appeal to a younger crowd, but this is an important gig, and I want to show my support, so I promised I’d be there.”

Instead of making a face, she actually looked interested. “What’s the name of the band?”

“The Tin Tarantulas. I’m sure you’ve never heard of them.”

“But I have! I heard them play when I was…um, when I just happened to be down at ASU last year. It was an open-air kind of performance. I…the college kids really seemed to love their music.” She combed her hair back with both hands, a gesture that jiggled her breasts under the lacy top. “I wouldn’t mind going, if that’s your question.”

“It’s my question.” He was careful not to let his gaze rest where it wanted to and looked into her eyes, instead. “So that wouldn’t be too painful? We can have dinner first, of course, but I need to be at the Cactus Club by nine. Colin expects me to show up.”

“That’ll work.” She smiled. “And don’t forget I asked you to dinner, so that part’s on me.”

“Okay.” He was so wrapped up in her smile that he didn’t care to debate who would pick up the check. Her lips, decorated in the same shade of red as her car, made him think of hot kisses. But what made her mouth even more fascinating to him, a man who loved details, was the tiny scar in one corner.

It was so faint that someone would have to look close to notice, but that little scar made her unique, and he liked that. Maybe tonight he’d ask her how she got it. He loved hearing those kinds of stories about people. It gave him a handle on who they were.

“How about if I pick you up around seven?” she asked.

He thought about that and laughed. “That’s okay. I’ll drive. I’d probably need a shoehorn to get myself into your car.”

She gazed at him. “How do you know that?”

Uh-oh. Oh, well. Confession was good for the soul. “I saw you get out of your car this morning.”

“Really?” The light dawned. “Were you the person who honked?”

“I accidentally hit the horn.” Leaning forward to get a better view of your tush. “Sorry if I startled you.”

“I just thought somebody was trying to get my attention. But when no one called out my name, I figured it wasn’t for me.”

It was all for her, but he’d eat grubs before admitting that. “I didn’t know your name then.” He laughed. “I still only know half of it, Ms. Lifesaver.”

She held out her hand. “Kasey Braddock.”

He wiped his on his jeans. “Sam Ashton.” He noted that her handshake was firm and her skin felt cool and incredibly soft. She met his gaze during the brief moment of touching, and he enjoyed the warmth of their eye contact.

What a great custom, the handshake. Sam thought of it as a sample of who the person was, like a taste of an ice-cream flavor served on a tiny pink spoon. In this instance, the sample made him want to take home a gallon’s worth of Kasey Braddock.



KASEY WAS CONVINCED that Sam had no clue they’d ever met. After she gave him her full name and he didn’t react, she knew she was home free. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to react. He’d remember a buddy named Jim Winston, but the last name of Braddock shouldn’t ring any bells for him.

“So I’ll pick you up, then,” he said.

Kasey hesitated, wondering if an assertive woman would insist on doing the driving, even if her car was a tight fit for her date. No, she’d let him drive. She knew the Miata was small, and Sam wasn’t.

“Or maybe you’d rather meet at the restaurant,” he said, obviously misinterpreting her reluctance. “After all, you don’t really know me, so maybe you’d rather not give out your address to a perfect stranger.”

But she did know him. Still, she couldn’t say that. “You’re Sam Ashton, so either this is your business or you’re working for a relative.”

“It’s my business.”

She’d thought as much from the way he’d talked about his work with the tree. “Then I can’t believe you’d jeopardize your professional reputation by turning into some kind of stalker. I’d be glad to have you pick me up.”

He smiled. “I promise I won’t bring a truck.”

“I’m not a car snob. You could bring a truck.”

“Glad to hear it, but I’ll bring my car, anyway. So let’s head over to the truck and I’ll locate a pen and paper.”

“Okay.” She walked beside him to the truck and trailer parked in the street next to the building, with orange cones set around it to divert traffic. Now she could see it was the same truck that had been parked behind her this morning. She liked knowing that he’d watched her get out of her car.

He opened the passenger door, grabbed a clipboard and closed the door again, but not before she noticed a cooler on the floor of the cab.

“Um, what’s in the cooler?” she asked, thinking she already knew the answer.

He grinned sheepishly. “Bottles of water.”

“I see.”

“I couldn’t very well tell you I didn’t need that water after you’d gone to so much trouble, could I?”

“You could have.” But knowing that he’d wanted to take the excuse to talk to her did a lot to calm her nerves. Maybe she was better at snagging a guy’s attention than she’d thought. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me, too.”

After giving him her phone number and address, she decided to get the heck out of there before she screwed something up. So far, so good, but her luck might not hold much longer. “See you at seven, then,” she said.

“Absolutely.”

She turned and walked toward the building, wondering if he was watching her. She did her damned best to walk like an experienced temptress. And she was well on her way to becoming one after successfully completing Phase One of the operation. Maybe her little red car had something to do with it, if he’d taken the time to notice her in the parking lot this morning. She thought of her license plate and wondered if he’d seen that, too.

The members of her family, especially her brother Jim, were not fans of that license plate. They’d predicted it would get her into trouble. No doubt they also wondered if that was exactly what she’d intended.

Her sexual experience so far couldn’t be classified as getting into trouble. Losing her virginity in college—to another nerd—had been more of a social experiment than a night of grand passion. About a year and a half ago, she’d decided she needed a makeover to attract sexier dates, and Alicia had been there to help.

Coincidentally, her parents had sold the house she’d grown up in and moved to a condo in Gilbert, a good hour away. That small degree of separation had given her a surprising sense of freedom and had made changing her image even easier. By the time she’d started work at Beckworth Public Relations, she’d been transformed into glam girl.

To give her confidence a boost, she’d ordered the vanity plate. She’d told herself that any day now she’d start getting into that trouble her family was so worried about. Well, apparently she was going to start with Sam.



SEVERAL HOURS LATER, while dressing for her date, Kasey mulled over her game plan. After reading a ton of restaurant reviews online and interviewing her co-workers, she’d made reservations at a trendy Italian restaurant within walking distance of the Cactus Club. That way, Sam wouldn’t have to worry about finding a downtown parking place twice.

Thank God she had fake ID. She’d felt like a criminal getting one in college, but it had come in handy. It would come in handy again tonight, because she wouldn’t be allowed into the Cactus Club without it.

The trick to this evening, Kasey decided, was coaxing Sam to talk about himself. The less he knew about her, the less likely he’d figure out who she was, which could cause complications. Blowing her cover at work was only part of the problem. She didn’t relish having Sam contact her brother, who would then fill him in on what his baby sister had been up to or, rather, hadn’t been up to.

Therefore she wouldn’t take this charade too far, only far enough to convince herself that Sam wanted her. This was simply a test of her abilities, one that would erase any lingering feelings of nerdiness she carried around and establish her new babe status for good.

At that point, she’d be ready to enjoy what the world of dating had to offer, maybe even juggling more than one guy at a time. Chances were that Sam, at age thirty, had moved beyond that exploratory stage. She’d seen the change in her brother, who’d been really serious about Alicia and hadn’t dated anyone else since the breakup.

As for her, she had no illusions about holding on to Sam and zero interest in lasting relationships. She was only twenty, for crying out loud. No way would she tie herself down until she was really old, as old as her brother. As old as Sam. With tons of sexual experience.

Wiggling into the red slip dress she’d chosen for the evening, she thought about how much experience Sam must have had. A guy who looked like him must have gone horizontal with a bunch of women. She wondered what kind of lover he was.

A picture flashed through her mind—Sam sitting in the emergency room with her, Jim and her mom. Sam, looking remorseful every time he glanced her way. She’d tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but talking made her mouth bleed, so she’d had to sit there silently and let him suffer. He’d bought her a can of root beer from the pop machine and rounded up a straw so she could drink it without moving her lips.

And then he’d sent the flowers the next day, pink, red and white carnations mixed in with baby’s breath and lacy ferns. She knew now that it hadn’t been an expensive bouquet, but because it was her first ever, she’d never forgotten how it had looked or how amazed she’d been when her mother had called her to the door to sign for the delivery. Come to think of it, the vase, her only one, was tucked into a cupboard in her apartment kitchen. She’d taken it when she’d moved away from home.

If he’d been that sweet at eighteen, he could be a wonderful lover with all the experience he’d surely collected since then. But she wouldn’t be finding out. Way too risky. Once she’d made him drool, she was outta there and on to her regularly scheduled dating program.

She thought her outfit would be a good start. Alicia would approve of the slip dress, the high-heeled slides, the braided leather jewelry and the upswept hairdo. Sam would never connect her with the kid he’d wrestled with in the pool all those years ago.

Pacing her apartment, she reminded herself that she couldn’t be too enthusiastic about the Tin Tarantulas, either. Even though she’d loved their music the one time she’d heard them play, they definitely appealed to the college crowd more than young professionals. And she was a young professional now. She should act slightly bored.

Maybe she needed to practice her slightly bored expression. After returning to her bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and tried out a sigh and an upward roll of her eyes. Yeah, that was good. A world-weary, tolerant smile, perhaps. Excellent.

Her doorbell rang, and she yelped softly. World-weary disappeared as her heart pumped faster and her palms grew sweaty. Sam Ashton had arrived to take her out for the evening. How amazing was that?

She dried her shaking hands on a towel, took one last glance at her flushed cheeks, and decided she’d have to work on her bored expression later. Right now she looked and felt exactly like that little kid who’d received her first bouquet of flowers twelve years ago.




3


SAM STOOD at Kasey’s door holding a dozen first-cut red roses in a cone of green tissue paper. In his early and poor-guy dating years he’d gone for the bargain roses, not understanding that those had been trimmed at least three times and wouldn’t last more than a few days. First-cut lasted much longer, long enough to make a real impression.

That’s what Sam intended to do. He had a gut feeling about this woman. Although he’d be hard-pressed to explain why she seemed so right for him, he was letting his instincts dictate his actions. Thus the pricey roses on the first date. He wanted to let her know he wasn’t kidding around.

When she opened the door and he got a look at her red slip dress and take-me-now shoes, he was doubly glad he’d brought the first-class roses. A woman who looked like Kasey Braddock had seen her share of bouquets, and he wanted his to stand out from the crowd.

“Hi,” she said. “Wow, roses.”

“And I’m sure glad I picked red.” He handed her the bouquet. If she was used to getting flowers, she didn’t let on. “I’m guessing it’s your favorite color.”

“It’s my new favorite color. Come in and I’ll find a vase for these.”

“It should be your favorite color.” He stepped inside the door. “You look terrific in it.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a quick smile. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a sec.”

He nodded, although he had no intention of sitting down. He’d be able to get a better view of her apartment if he stood right where he was.

What he saw surprised him a little. It looked like a college pad instead of a career girl’s place. Makeshift bookcases of bricks and boards overflowed with paperbacks, hardbacks and what looked like textbooks. A futon took the place of a regular couch, and over it hung posters from various art galleries. The women he’d dated recently had graduated to real furniture and professionally framed prints.

The place was neat enough, but it didn’t look as if she’d spent lots of time thinking about decorating. One scraggly pothos in dire need of repotting hung from a hook in the ceiling, and the coffee table looked like a hand-me-down from her parents.

Okay, so she wasn’t domestic, wasn’t into nest-building. Was that such a problem? Reluctantly he admitted it might be. Nest-building instincts ranked pretty high on his list these days.

Then she walked back into the room holding the flowers, her cheeks flushed and the rosebuds a perfect match for her lipstick, and he forgot about his nest-building requirements. Hell, if this turned into something wonderful, he could build the damned nest. Roles were changing more every day. So what if she didn’t own a decent crystal vase and had plunked his roses in a cheap glass one that looked like it had been stashed in a cupboard for years.

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.” From her expression, anyone would think he’d given her diamonds.

He found her enthusiasm sexy. Maybe she didn’t bother decorating her apartment or buying crystal because she had too many other exciting things in her life, like asking a complete stranger to have dinner with her.

“Okay.” She set the vase of flowers on the coffee table and scooped up a small purse from the futon. “I’m ready.”

He thought of her license plate. Yep, her vibrant approach to life really turned him on. “Then let’s go.”



HALFWAY THROUGH THE MEAL, Kasey congratulated herself on how well she was doing. Probably because the restaurant was upscale, the waiter hadn’t carded her when Sam had ordered a bottle of red to go with the pasta. She was relieved about that. Although she had the fake ID, she didn’t want to use it more than necessary, in case somebody spotted it as bogus.

As per her plan, she’d steered the conversation so they talked about Sam. During the antipasto, she’d confirmed what she already knew, that his family had moved to Oregon right after his senior year in high school. He’d gone to college up there but never could get used to the weather, so he’d decided to come back to Phoenix to build his landscaping business.

With a little prompting, she got him to talk about his business during the main course. She didn’t blame him for being proud of what he’d accomplished, creating a thriving enterprise during tough economic times. Besides, she liked listening to him. There was a sexy, husky sound to his voice that hadn’t been there when he was eighteen.

“The tree you worked on today looks amazing,” she said. “Like a sculpture. How did you learn to do that?”

He put down his wineglass and gazed across the table at her, a little smile on his face. “Oh, I’ve had a lot of practice. Besides, it’s fun. I like climbing trees. It’s probably not much different from you designing a PR campaign. How do you go about that, by the way?”

Although it was an innocent enough question, she pegged it as an attempt to switch the topic to her. “Trust me, it’s not half as interesting as what you do. So, what’s the biggest landscaping challenge you’ve ever had?”

He grinned at her. “I’m beginning to think you’ve dated a bunch of egomaniacs.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just the way you’ve made sure we talked about me all the time. Maybe the other guys wanted to bask in that constant limelight, but I’d love to hear something about you.”

“I’m… I’m not all that fascinating.” It was a truthful statement. She was hoping to become fascinating, but that would require more seasoning. He was to be part of the process, although he didn’t know that.

“Come on. A woman who drives a red convertible with such an interesting license plate?”

So here was the fatal flaw in her plan. With the car, the dress, even the shoes, she’d presented herself as a daring Sex and the City kind of girl. She’d hoped that concentrating on him would prevent the spotlight from being turned on her. Spotlights picked up discrepancies. She wondered what she could offer up that would fit the image she’d projected without telling him too much.

Then she remembered her current project at work. “Well, right now I’m designing an image make over for Slightly Scandalous.”

His eyebrows rose. “Really.”

“So you know the place?”

“Um, yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

From his initial reaction she thought he’d had more intimate contact than that. At any rate, sexy underwear seemed to be a savvy topic that went with the red car and the license plate. She’d get some mileage out of it.

“They’ve seen how well Victoria’s Secret is doing,” she said, “and they want some of that market. They’ve rented mall space and they want a classier image when they move.”

“So how do you do that? I mean, when I think of Slightly Scandalous, I think of G-strings and those bras with the cutouts…everywhere.”

Having him mention such things changed the atmosphere of the table, and maybe that’s what she needed. She wouldn’t get him to drool over a discussion about trimming trees. “Exactly. It’s all about branding. If I do my job right, when you think of Slightly Scandalous, you’ll picture a runway model in silk underwear that’s decent enough to be shown on national TV and yet still very sexy.”

“So they’re giving up on the other stuff?” He sounded disappointed.

“Pretty much. There’s a niche market for the over-the-top lingerie, but apparently they were struggling to capture that.” She decided a happening chick would be bold. “Face it, did you ever go in there?”

A flush stole up from the open collar of his silk shirt. “Maybe I should plead the Fifth on that one.”

Which meant he had bought naughty lingerie at some time, for some woman in his life. Kasey wondered what that would be like, having a man like Sam bring her a present of underwear that he expected her to model for him. The idea gave her goose bumps.

“I have the feeling I’ve just incriminated myself,” he said.

“Not at all.” But he’d made himself seem even sexier, if that was possible. She reminded herself to keep playing the role of sophisticated city girl. “I know men have fantasies.”

His gaze intensified. “I’ve been told women have them, too.”

“Well, of course.” She sounded nervous, damn it. She decided to retreat a little. “That’s what my project’s about, tapping into women’s fantasies instead of catering to a man’s. Women usually want their fantasies packaged more subtly.”

“How about you? How do you like your fantasies packaged?”

I’m looking at it. “Oh, I’m probably like most women.”

“I seriously doubt that. Play fair, now. I’ve pretty much admitted to buying something at Slightly Scandalous. The least you can do is confess that you’ve worn something from there.”

As if. “Uh, well, I—”

“Your pink cheeks are giving you away, Kasey.” He smiled. “I know a bad girl when I see one. But for the record, wearing an outfit from Slightly Scandalous is okay with me.”

She knew she was in over her head. But the thing was, she’d nearly accomplished her mission. Sam looked like a man who could hardly wait to get her alone.

Picking up her goblet, she borrowed his line. “I’ll have to take the Fifth on that.” Then she drained the glass before setting it back on the table.

He let out a breath. “You know how to turn a man inside out, don’t you?” He picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass.

She made a command decision not to drink another drop. Finishing off her glass had seemed like a big-girl sort of gesture, but now she was feeling light-headed and giggly. Any more of that delicious red stuff and she was liable to tell Sam her entire life story. Nope, she’d stick with water from here on out.

In fact, a drink of water might settle her jumpy nerves. The way Sam was looking at her, she had the feeling she’d started something she might not be ready to finish. She picked up her water glass and took a cooling swallow.

“I’ve been dying to ask you—how did you get that little scar on your lip?”

She choked on the water. As an unplanned distraction, it worked well. Sam was out of his seat in no time, patting her back and murmuring words of concern.

Gradually she could breathe again, and she begged him to go back to his seat. Other diners had begun to stare and even the waiter had come by to make sure she was all right.

Sam eased back into his chair. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Fine. Just embarrassed. You’d think by now I’d have learned how to swallow water.”

“I hope it wasn’t something I said.”

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“If mentioning that little scar upset you, I’m really sorry.”

“Goodness, no. It’s an old childhood injury. Most of the time I forget it’s even there.” She’d always cherished that scar, though, because it reminded her of Sam. He really had been her fantasy guy for years. That was one negative thing about running into him again. Chances were he wouldn’t be able to live up to the image she’d created for him.

“I’ll bet you were goofing around on the playground equipment,” he said.

“Something like that.” And they needed to get off this subject before she let some detail slip.

“I remember wrestling with my buddy’s kid sister years ago in their swimming pool. I got too rough and she ended up needing stitches. I felt like a jerk.”

She had to work very hard not to react. “You shouldn’t have. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.”

“Yeah, but I should have been more careful. She was just a kid—only about seven or eight. I can’t even remember her name, but I can still see that little face, with an ice pack crammed against her mouth.”

“I’m sure she recovered.” Although she missed you dreadfully and carried you in her heart for years.

“Oh, I’m sure she did, too. I checked with my buddy after a couple of months, to make sure. But then he went into the service and we lost track of each other. I haven’t tried to find him since I got back. I should. Maybe that’s why we’re having this conversation, to remind me to look up my old buddy Jim and see if he’s back in town.”

And Kasey couldn’t stop him from doing that, either. One evening with Jim could be enough to blow her cover. She might as well enjoy this date with Sam, because there was a good chance she’d never have another one.



BY THE END OF THE MEAL, Sam hadn’t made much progress in getting to know Kasey. And he wanted to get to know her, because physically she was driving him crazy. In the old days he would have given in to that physical urge and figured that he’d get around to the friendship part later. Now that seemed backward to him. He wanted to establish a relationship first.

Kasey wasn’t helping. Being a mystery woman seemed to appeal to her, and that attitude had one-night stand written all over it. Maybe that’s what she had in mind. After all, she’d made the first move and she’d insisted on paying for dinner. He’d tried to get the check, but she’d outmaneuvered him.

So maybe he was designated as her boy-toy for the night. He wasn’t about to fall in with that plan. Of course he wasn’t. Not even if he did find himself staring at her mouth and longing to stare at her cleavage.

He wanted to touch her…all over. As they left the restaurant, he settled for holding her hand. Even that simple contact aroused him. He should be offended at the idea that she might want him just for sex and nothing more. Instead he was challenged by it.

Unfortunately, the next part of the evening wouldn’t allow much conversation between them. He had about three blocks before they’d be drawn into the noisy world of the Cactus Club. After that, they’d have to read lips.

“Do your folks live in Phoenix?” he asked, trying yet again.

“Uh, no. Gilbert.”

“That area sure is growing. Is that where you went to school?”

“Not exactly. Whoops, the light’s about to change. We’ll have to hurry to make it.” She tugged at his hand.

He resisted. “Maybe I don’t care.”

“Oh.” She gave him a wary glance. “All right. We can wait until the light changes.”

He decided the time had come for some gentle persuasion. Taking her other hand, he pulled her closer. “Kasey, why are you hiding from me?”

She laughed. “Hiding? Why would you say that?”

“Because every time I try to learn something about you, you find a way to avoid answering.” He released his grip on her hands and cupped her shoulders. What silky skin she had. “I want to get to know you.” He wondered if he was imagining the quick look of panic in her eyes.

Then it was gone, and she smiled. “In what way?”

In every way. “You know—the kinds of things you liked to do as a kid, the type of music you like, whether you have a favorite team or hate sports altogether.”

“I like baseball, and my favorite team is the Diamondbacks.”

“Me, too.” But out of all the things he’d asked, she’d picked the least personal one to answer. Most everyone in Phoenix liked the home team. Nevertheless, although he really knew nothing more than he had before, he found himself caressing her shoulders and wanting to kiss her. Theoretically, he shouldn’t get involved in a kiss with a woman who held her cards so close to her chest.

But what a chest it was, and he longed to know how it felt locked against his. “Okay, that’s a start.” He drew her closer. “How about music?”

“I like everything.”

“Everything?” He couldn’t take his gaze from her mouth. So tempting. “Even rap?”

“Some rap is okay.”

He loved the way her lips rounded as she said the o in okay. “Can you sing?” It was a goofy question, but he was so focused on her mouth it seemed semilogical.

“Not very well.” She looked up at him. “Can you?”

“Not very well.” Then temptation overtook him. Forgetting why he didn’t want to do this yet, he leaned down and kissed her.

And what a mistake that was, because she kissed him back. She might not want to tell him anything about herself, but she was perfectly willing to kiss him as if the end of the world had arrived. Her lips parted, her tongue became involved, and when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, she settled against him with a soft moan of delight.

As kisses went, this one topped the charts. He tasted hunger as strong as his own, which filled his mind with all sorts of ideas he wasn’t supposed to be having. In fact, much more of this kiss and they were liable to get themselves arrested. He pulled back with difficulty and looked into her eyes to double-check that he hadn’t misread her level of involvement. Yep—eyes glazed, chest heaving, body quivering. Just like his.

“I…had a feeling about this,” he said.

“N-not me.”

“Boy, I did. Sometimes there’s just…something between two people.” Now there was a profound statement. Sheesh. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, as if trying to restore the circulation, which was ridiculous. Judging from her reaction, her circulation was currently excellent. Speaking for himself, he could feel the blood whipping through his veins and arteries at warp speed.

“Something explosive.” She still sounded out of breath.

“Right. But I believe in getting to know each other first.”

She cleared her throat. “Okay.”

“Unfortunately, going to my little brother’s event won’t give us much chance for that. The noise level will be horrific. And I can’t leave too early or he’ll think I didn’t like it.”

“Then we need to go and stay as long as necessary.”

“I’m afraid so. But after that…” He didn’t dare put what he was thinking into words. He hoped she was thinking exactly the same thing.

“After that, we’ll…we’ll see what happens.”

So she wanted to hedge a little. He didn’t buy her act. He’d been there during the fireworks and he knew she was flammable. “I think we both can guess what will happen, given half a chance.”

“I thought you wanted to get to know me first.”

“I do.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “And I will.”




4


SOMEHOW KASEY CROSSED the street without getting run over. That probably had something to do with Sam’s tight grip on her hand and his take-charge attitude. Thank goodness he was watching out for them, because she was too dazed by that kiss to notice traffic signals.

So when had kissing become such a big deal? She’d kissed guys before and been able to analyze the process in clinical detail, even during the act itself. She’d evaluated kissing techniques and rated them for firmness, taste and the all-important slipperiness factor. Then she’d taken into account the groping, or lack of groping, and whether that added to the experience or detracted.

Then along came Sam with a kiss that destroyed every analytical brain cell she possessed. Instead of being a mildly amusing mouth exercise, this kiss had thrown her into the center of a tornado where she’d clung helplessly to Sam as winds of lust tugged at her from every angle. Whatever he was offering, she wanted to be first in line.

All her sexual experiences so far had been motivated by curiosity. This driving urge was nothing like that. There was desperation mixed in with carnal desire, as if she might go crazy if she couldn’t satisfy the need he’d created with one simple kiss. No, not simple. That had been a very complicated kiss. Because of it, she had to reevaluate her entire campaign.

Her original plan had included more control. She’d judged her ability to stay in control based on her experiences with men so far. She hadn’t factored in a kiss that would turn her knees to jelly. She’d always thought that was a silly expression, someone’s wild exaggeration of normal sexual impulses.

Apparently not. Apparently there were men like Sam who could accomplish the knees-to-jelly thing. Who knew? In any case, she had a combustible situation on her hands. He wanted to sleep with her. That was the good part, because she really had made him drool. The bad part was that she wanted to sleep with him, too.

So now what? A big juicy flirtation was what she’d intended. A full-blown affair hadn’t been part of the equation. Obviously that’s what he wanted, though.

And so did she, but it wouldn’t be a wise move. In fact, it would be an extremely foolish move. The deeper her involvement, the more likely he’d find out who she was. She didn’t want that to happen.

Instead, she wanted to be the sexy mystery woman who got away. She might still be able to pull that off, but she’d have to keep her wits about her. No more of those high-octane kisses. And this would be their one and only date.

By the time she’d reached that conclusion, Sam had opened the door to the Cactus Club. A warm-up band had already taken the stage and the air vibrated with the sound of drums and acoustic guitars.

Kasey dug into her small purse and pulled out her fake ID. Showing it always made her nervous, but tonight provided a double dose of angst. Nothing could be more embarrassing than getting busted in front of Sam. Fortunately the interior was dim, the guy checking ID knew Sam, and there was no special scrutiny of her card.

“Colin’s saved you a table up front,” the guy said, leaning close to be heard above the music. “He also said the first round’s on him.”

“We’ll see about that,” Sam said with a smile. Then he guided Kasey to an empty table right next to the crowded dance floor.

Once there, he held her chair and leaned down to speak directly into her ear. “What do you want to drink?”

She turned to answer him and her mouth nearly collided with his. When she pulled back, he caught her chin with his hand.

“Hey, there.” He stayed in close, a gentle smile on his face. “You’re not having a shyness attack, are you?”

Shy was the last word she wanted him to associate with her. “Not in the least.” She smiled back. “But I didn’t want to be the cause of you getting teased, in case your brother’s around.”

“Let me worry about that.” His expression grew warmer and he stroked her chin with his thumb. “I sure wish we didn’t have to be here.”

“But we do.”

“Yeah. So what do you want?”

She’d watched enough movies and read enough books to know that a happening chick would pick up on that opening. “Whatever you’re offering, Sam.”

He groaned. “Later. Later you can have whatever you want. Right now all I can give you is a drink.”

“Mineral water, then.”

His smile widened. “I like that. A woman who wants to stay alert. I think I’ll have the same.”

“Don’t abstain on my account.”

“Oh, it’s completely on your account. Normally I enjoy the band much more when I’m a little sloshed. But for tonight, I’ll forgo that crutch.”

“For heaven’s sake, at least have a beer.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Considering what’s at stake later on, this will be no sacrifice.”

Her heart beat like crazy as she absorbed his meaning. If only she could go with the flow, but she didn’t dare, not with this man. “You seem to have forgotten about getting acquainted first.”

“No, I haven’t.” He dropped a slow, lingering kiss on her lips.

She couldn’t stop him without making a scene. And from that first magic taste, she didn’t want to stop him. Once again, she was lost to the world. The music faded and the crowd noise disappeared. There was only the sweet pressure of his mouth on hers, and she wanted more, so much more….

He ended the kiss and took a shaky breath. “There.”

She opened her eyes, feeling like Sleeping Beauty. But this was no fairy tale and she was not going to be swept away by the handsome prince. Not if she could help it.

“I know you better already,” he murmured.

“You can’t find out anything from a kiss.”

“Sure I can. For example—”

“Can I take your order, sir?” called out a waiter who’d appeared behind Sam.

Kasey glanced over Sam’s shoulder and caught the waiter’s eye. He winked at her. Being with Sam had already elevated her status. No waiter had ever winked at her before.

Sam straightened and turned around. As he gave the guy their order, Kasey took a moment to dredge up some of her famous self-discipline. She hadn’t graduated from college at eighteen by allowing distractions to ruin her game plan. This was no different. Well, it was a little bit different. Okay, it was a lot different.

But if she’d been disciplined in her studies, she could be disciplined in limiting the amount of kisses that went on. No, not limiting—eliminating. She couldn’t afford any more moments of oblivion. She quickly reviewed her list of reasons and vowed to keep them firmly in mind.

Sam took his seat across from her and plopped the waiter’s ordering pad on the small table.

She raised her voice to make herself heard. “What are you doing with that?”

“Borrowed it for a while!” He scribbled something on the pad, tore off the top sheet and handed it across the table, along with the pen he’d apparently scrounged from the waiter.

She glanced at the paper, where he’d written, “Are you a morning person or a night person?” She started to laugh. No wonder he’d built a successful business. He was an extremely resourceful guy. She admired that in people, and she was gradually coming to admire Sam, not to mention wanting to jump his bones.

After writing “night person” on the paper, she handed it back. That kind of information shouldn’t get her in trouble. Mainly she had to avoid biographical information like where she went to high school, which was also his high school.

Sam wrote “me, too” under her answer and held it up so she could see it. He seemed pleased to have that in common, but then he probably expected this was the start of something spectacular. She was starting to feel guilty, because it wouldn’t be the start of anything. Unfortunately, she thought of him as sexual training wheels, and that wasn’t fair to him or any guy. Maybe she should give some excuse about hating the music and make her exit.

She didn’t need to hang around any more to see she had temptress potential or even to have stories for the women at the office. Her goal of making him want her had been accomplished and then some. She’d earned her first stripe as a Bad Girl, so she could stop the charade now.

He would be hurt and confused, would probably try to contact her again, but she could handle that. What she couldn’t handle was getting in deeper with him and then forcing herself to back away. Right now she’d inflict only superficial wounds on his ego, but the longer she played this game, the worse it would be on him.

Meanwhile Sam was busy writing another question. He pushed the paper across the table and tossed her the pen.

This was her chance to leave. All she had to do was flip the page over and write “Have to go—music’s giving me a headache.” He wouldn’t be able to leave with her, not when his brother’s band was about to take the stage. He’d probably call her a cab, and that would be that.

If she meant to leave, she shouldn’t read whatever question he’d come up with, because the question wouldn’t matter. But she’d been born with an extremely inquisitive mind. The trait had been a blessing for the most part, but was a curse, now.

Chastising herself for doing it, she read his question. “What was your favorite book when you were seven years old?” Damn it, she knew she shouldn’t have read his question. He wasn’t just playing at this get-acquainted business. He really wanted to know who she was. Okay, she’d answer his question, and maybe that would send him running for the hills.

She picked up the pen and wrote “Megatrends for Women. Yours?” Then she scooted the paper across the table and waited for his reaction, the reaction she usually got from all except the genius-level guys.

Sure enough, his eyes widened and he glanced up. She could almost read his thoughts—system alert: brain-iac in the house. Then he smiled and picked up the pen. He continued to smile as he wrote down his favorite book and added another line, maybe another question.

When he pushed the paper over to her, she hesitated before picking it up. She was supposed to be out of here by now. Instead she was still trading notes with Sam. But she had to find out what he’d written, and what his next question would be. Without realizing it, he’d chosen a method of communication that tapped right into her curious nature. She found the suspense contained in each note irresistible.

Glancing down, she read “Goodnight, Moon was my favorite book. I think you’re probably a lot smarter than I am. Is that a problem for you?” She looked up and saw the uncertainty in his expression. He wasn’t rejecting her because of her brains—he was afraid she’d reject him.

Her heart turned over. She couldn’t leave now. Instead she wrote “No way” across the bottom of the page and gave it back to him.

His face relaxed into another broad smile and he flipped the paper over to write something across the back. This time he didn’t give her the pen, only the small sheet of paper.

When she read what he’d written, her pulse rate jumped. “I promise to compensate in other areas.” Sweet heaven, the man was ready to guarantee that he’d love her so well she wouldn’t care about his IQ.



THE TIN TARANTULAS’ opening number put an end to the note writing for a while, but that was okay with Sam. Thanks to that maneuver, he was getting a handle on Kasey Braddock. What he’d taken as a standoffish attitude might be related to her heavy-duty smarts.

She hadn’t wanted him to know she was a brain. Understandable. He wasn’t oblivious to the problems that could have caused with the opposite sex once she started dating. Some guys reacted poorly if they found out a woman was more intelligent than they were.

Sam happened to think it was cool. He liked hanging out with smart people. He’d discovered that early in his life during interactions with Colin, who had inherited more brains than he had. When discussing things with Colin, he sometimes lost his way in the conversation, but he was never bored. So if Kasey didn’t mind the gap in mental abilities, he sure as hell didn’t.

Good thing he’d thought up the note idea, or he might never have found out her secret. She must have decided to test him when he asked about her favorite book as a kid. Maybe she’d thought that would be the end of the attraction for him.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/vicki-thompson-lewis/old-enough-to-know-better/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.