Dare Me (3 page)

She snatched the last empty booth with her back to the wall and kept an eye out for him.

With the other bleary eye, she peeked in her compact. “Business,” she confirmed, glaring at her reflection. “Not pleasure. Not pleasure. Definitely not pleasure.” She whispered the mantra as she swiped the gloss-wand over dry lips before snapping the tiny mirror shut. To ensure she didn’t break her promise, she pulled out a few
Misty Bridal Boutique
business cards to exchange. “All business.”

The waitress brought a small wooden bowl filled with more of those candy hearts, along with a menu and a complimentary glass of champagne.

Perfect timing
. The floaty effects of her buzz faded fast and the hunger pangs came in full force like a hot knife in the gut. Misty picked a random candy and read its two-cents’ worth of wisdom,
BE GOOD
, before snorting at the advice and popping it in her mouth.

Anxiously waiting, she tapped her business cards on the table then fanned them in her hand. What a lonesome loser she must look like, sitting solo of all nights of the year when everyone was with someone.

She pulled out the cell phone for company.

Ugh—more texts from paranoid brides.
Why did everyone act as though the sky was falling whenever the weatherman predicted a bit of snow? Disgusted, she slipped the device back in her clutch.

To appease her growling belly she gobbled heart after heart as if it were her last supper. Up next were
BE MINE,
HUG ME
, and
LOVERBOY
. Oh, yes, she wanted to make Loverboy hers and do a whole helluva lot more than hug him, but things were complicated. And foolishly, she was a glutton for punishment, lapping up Adam’s displaced attention like a hungry kitten.

The last time she was this pathetic was after her break-up, and she didn’t want to go there again…

Poor Mrs. Wright
—Misty envisioned his wife home alone while Adam entertained another woman on the night of the year dedicated for romance.

“This is wrong. What the hell am I doing here?” She could get his address from the event coordinator and drop his credit card in the mail—a simple fix to this whole situation.

She slid to the edge of the bench, poised to bolt for the Exit.

Too late.

Adam appeared, covered in diamonds of dizzying light from the spinning mirror-ball over the dance floor. Although he looked exhausted, he was still the sexiest man in the world as far as Misty was concerned. A younger version of this virile man existed somewhere in those carved features and intoxicating eyes. Once wiry legs in ragged denim were now thick thighs, clad in, if she had to take an expert guess, a mohair-wool blend, she imagined straddling…

Wait!
She halted her overactive imagination.
I’m not straddling anyone tonight—especially a man with a wedding band.

When he spotted her, he released a lethal smile that turned her limbs to sand. “Sorry I took so long.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry.” She tried standing again. “I really have to go.”

“Are you sure?” He slid in the seat across from her and caught her hands.

A willing captive, she half-nodded, half-shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Can’t you stay five more minutes? Please?”

“Uhhh.” Her conscience garbled something about
leave now,
but Misty ignored it, too caught up in the sincerity in his eyes sucking the motivation to move right out of her, turning her into his obedient pet once more. “Oh, okay. Five minutes.”

“Thanks again for your help today…” he rambled.

Misty watched his lips move but the words melded with the background chatter. His knee jackhammered quicker than the rapid-fire of her heartbeat, brushing against hers beneath the table.

To think, a decade passed yet this man never left her thoughts—even when she was with Glen.

That’s gotta mean something.

Not as much as the ring on his finger, winking at her like a tease, testing her patience.

He’d been the one boy she’d imagined marrying someday. Not in real life, only in her dreams because she never had the courage to talk to him in high school, always crowded by his badass buddies and their rotation of sluts. Over the past few years, she’d followed the photo-journal he posted on his website. Too bad it didn’t mention he was married.

She was going to ask about the ring when the DJ cranked a techno tune that drove bodies to the dance floor.

“Food?” Adam pointed to the menu and gestured the sign for eating. “Did you order?”

“No.” She shook her head and finally handed him the credit card tucked behind her slim stack of business cards.

He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s split,” she thought he said. Then he grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the door.

In the corridor, Misty spun, snatching her limb from his grip, torn between feeling wrong for wanting more and knowing this moment would never be enough…for her. Quitting now was the right thing to do before she did the unthinkable. “Five minutes is up.”

“Five more?” He beamed, looking like the sweet little boy she recalled sharing snacks with in kindergarten, which was the instant she knew she was in love.

“It’s late…” Even if her one-track mind wasn’t on her career, he still belonged to someone else.

“Late?” He shook the cuff of his sleeve to read his wristwatch. “It’s only eight-thirty.”

“I need to get home. And so should you. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m sure your wife would like to spend time with you.” She cut her eyes at his ring.

“Wife?” He screwed up his perfect features, twisting those kissable lips into a mischievous smirk. “It’s not what you think.” He slid the band off one hand and slipped it on the other. “It’s just a regular ring, not a wedding ring. I only wear it when I shoot weddings to put husbands at ease while I coax their brides into giving the camera a little sugar. You’d be surprised how jealous guys get.”

Not just guys.
Misty studied him through narrow eyes, weighing his story. It sounded plausible, yet still hard to believe.

“Here.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Talk to my mom. She’ll confirm. The woman wishes I’d settled down already.”

A warm wave of relief washed away the clammy sensation of guilt. Before he could dial, Misty pushed his hand away. “I am not asking your mother.”

“So, you believe me?”

Although he was single, she still wasn’t in the position to socialize, at least not until her parents agreed to let their only daughter take over the family business. Until then, she needed to focus all her energy on the goal.

But maybe…for tonight, now that Adam wasn’t married, she could have a momentary lapse of reason and get back on track tomorrow. It was Valentine’s Day after all. She was entitled to a little fun.

“Yes. I believe you.”

“I’m glad.” Adam squeezed her hand. “Trust is important in a relationship.”

His words caught her off guard and she choked on her breath.

“Relax, Misty. I’m just messin’ with ya.” His grin spread like a virus until she was smiling too, laughing from relief. He draped his arm around her shoulder as they walked down the hall. “Ya know…I never did take your headshots.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved the idea away. “I’m sure I’m in a few group photos. That’s enough.” Being the object of his lens right now gave her butterflies, but he didn’t need to know it. Unless he could sense it. Something in those bedroom eyes had Misty believing he knew exactly how to make her knees weak.

“Nuh-uh. I gotta. It’s in my contract.”

“Fine, where’s the camera? We can take a quick picture in the lobby before I’m officially wilted for the night.”

“Better yet, we can do it in my room. You can freshen up if you’d like, but honestly, I think you look perfect the way you are.”

“Wait.” Misty spun and her palm landed on the hard wall of Adam’s chest where his heart beat wildly through the thin dress shirt. “You have a room? Here? Tonight?”

“Yeah. My equipment is up there.” Adam nudged her into the elevator and hit the top button to the
Honeymoon Suite.
“The hotel offered the room so I could take the pre-ceremony photos.” He ran the key-card through the slot then pushed the handle. “After you.”

“Ummm…” Misty she lost her edge and took a step back. “Ya know what—”

“Lemme guess…you forgot to feed the cat?”

Feeling foolish for faltering, she smoothed a nervous hand over her hairdo. “No.”

“The dog then? Or the fish? Parakeet? Hamster?” He rambled in a single breath at comical speed. “Boa constrictor? Komodo dragon? Bengal tiger? Unicorn?”

“Very funny.”

“Then it must be the boyfriend?”

“I don’t have one of those either.”

Adam leaned on the doorjamb and sighed. “So, what’s the problem, Misty? You’re alone. I’m alone. It’s Valentine’s Day. Come inside. Please.”

“It’s just…” She wrung her hands and shrugged, diverting her gaze toward the tips of his patent leather shoes. “I don’t know.”

His fingers brushed her knuckles, tracing each one. Reluctantly, she released her fists and wove one hand between his. He pulled her over the threshold effortlessly.

“Don’t worry, we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise. You can trust me.” He pressed his back to the door and it clicked shut.

So used to dealing with engaged guys, losing her cool over a man was a rarity. A droplet of perspiration tickled between her breasts and it took everything to resist adjusting the underwire in her bra. His thumb stroked the back of her hand while wide whiskey eyes caressed her face, making it impossible to restrain her lustful thoughts. She craved to press her body against his but there was no easy way to say what was on her mind without lunging into his arms.

“It’s not what I
don’t
want that worries me,” she mumbled, swallowing a lump of anxiety.

“Well…” Adam’s airy voice dropped an octave, “what do you wanna do?”

A wild vibration hummed inside the purse clasped under her arm. “Tsk. Let me see who it is.” She tugged free of his grip to dig out the cell phone and flicked her finger across the screen. “Sorry, I’ve got to respond to this one,” she said, typing with quick thumbs.

“No problem.” Adam nodded. Although there was no reason to doubt her words, he still envisioned another man on the other end of the urgent text message.

To divert his negative thoughts he turned on the gas fireplace and opened the drapes. If she had a man, he doubted the girl was the cheating type. Then again, she did play a rather tough game of hard-to-get. Maybe he was wrong about her. Maybe she’d changed after all these years.

“That’s the hotel manager.” She put the phone away. “I’ve got to clear my stuff from the bridal suite in the banquet hall. If I don’t get it now, I’ll have to do it at the crack of dawn because they have a morning wedding and need the space,” she rambled, pacing.

Adam hated the distress pulling her face into a frown and wanted to take her worry away. The last time he saw her this flustered was in the nurse’s office in eleventh grade when he’d gone in for a bloody nose from gym class; she was up-chucking lunch and begging to go back to class to avoid getting a zero on some quiz. “Relax.”

“Relax? Do you know what kind of day I’ve had dealing with a dozen bridezillas?”

“Umm, yeah. I do. But we are just talking about dresses, right? That’s not exactly an emergency.”

“
Just
dresses. Is that what you said? Eight brides didn’t show up today—probably got cold feet. I’ve got thousands of dollars’ worth of gowns to cart back to the shoppe.”

He caught Misty from behind with a firm grip on her shoulders and steered her toward the sliding glass door where snow swirled in the air, piling high on the balcony. “I don’t think you or the gowns are going anywhere tonight.”

“Damn.”

“You can always stash your things here.”

“You sure? It’s a huge rack.”

It couldn’t be any bigger than Misty’s
huge rack
in that curve-hugging dress. “You freshen up. I’ll talk to the manager.”

While she disappeared into the bathroom, Adam arranged to have her things delivered to the Honeymoon Suite then dialed room service.

“Would you care for the Valentine’s Day Extra-Special Super-Deluxe Fantasy Honeymoon Surprise Package?” asked the friendly female voice on the other end of the line.

“Uh, sure,” he answered without hesitation. Whatever it was, he hoped Misty wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Something told him they were both on the same page of the same book, although she seemed to be a slower reader.

Now, if he could pry the damn cell phone from her fingers permanently he might get her full attention. Every time she checked the thing, her face fell as if she were looking into a crystal ball with bad news. He wanted to chuck it into a snowdrift.

Champagne should ease her nerves; it would certainly ease his.

Good thing he’d stocked the mini-fridge with a few bottles after noticing her name on vendor roster.

How many Misty Morningside’s could there be in the world?

In all his travels, he never found a girl who came close, which was why this rambling man quit shooting exotic locations and followed the foolish romantic bug in his system back to Scenic View.

In silent celebration that stupid cupid was on his side for once, he popped the cork, filled a crystal flute to the brim, and gulped it down before setting up the equipment. A firm rap on the door halted his handiwork.

“Room service.” One young man rolled the dress rack over the threshold with care and into the bedroom as directed, while the second steered a silver-covered cart to the bistro table by the balcony door. Adam tipped them each a twenty on their way out.

Finally, Misty emerged from the bathroom.