Naughty Little Wishes (Birthday Dare) (6 page)

The cellophane bag from inside the box plopped down at her feet. He picked it up. Arrogance reigned in his expression as he handed it to her and walked away. “Enjoy your Fruit Loops.”

Chapter Eight

Tab flopped back in the chair in Drew’s home office. This was ridiculous. Ever since he’d kissed her yesterday, she couldn’t get him out of her head. Her fault for taking a stupid tie instead of a detailed contract signed in his blood. Just because his strict regimen gave him a sex-on-a-stick physique didn’t mean he could use it against her, literally, or in any other sense. No sex included no touching and no tonsil-probing kisses, no matter how much she enjoyed it.

Finding another place to stay could solve the problem. She wouldn’t have to see him, stare at his books, pictures, and mementos and wonder what they meant to him. She could stop listening for him to come home at night and stop lying in bed thinking about him a few steps down the hall. She could focus on Natalie and let Drew off the hook.

Tab tossed her pen on the desk and went to the French doors overlooking the pool. She also couldn’t shake the belief their paths crossed for a reason. Seeing so much of Corey in him, she wouldn’t go as far as calling it a sign, but it compelled her to stay.

The other day, he didn’t realize she was there, but she saw him after a late night run heaving for breaths, limping, but with emotional pain in his expression. Like hell had chased him and he’d barely escaped. Today, whatever haunted him threatened the loss of a business contract. Tomorrow whatever kept him stuck could take away a lot more. All because his past almost tore him down. He’d survived but a part of him still remained there.

Had the accident taken the same or more from Shana? Was she enjoying life while Drew embraced rigidity? Did she feel any guilt over her father trying to destroy the man she’d supposedly loved?

Tab sat behind the desk and drank the tea she’d brewed to ease the knots in her belly. She set it down, fingers hovering above the laptop keyboard. Shana, congressman’s daughter, Andrew Bode, accident, words capable of digging up answers if she typed them in the internet browser. Did she really want to know?

Her cell rang.
Drew?
He’d never called before. “Hey.”

“When will you be back tonight?”

A cancelled appointment left her working at the house for most of the day. She had a late consult with a client in crisis mode over her wardrobe for her high school reunion later that night. The brusqueness of his tone stopped her from sharing the information. “I’m in and out. Why?”

“Bob Harrison wants to meet for dinner. Five o’clock. Can you make it?”

“I have to leave at seven.”

“We should be done before then. I’ll text the address.”

He’d fortified his wall again. Heaviness sat on her shoulders as she rose from the chair. Watching him brood through dinner wasn’t on her happy list, but she’d made a deal to help him land Bob’s contract.

She changed four times, unable to find an outfit to lift her spirits. The threat of arriving late became the deciding factor. At the valet station in front of the restaurant, she smoothed down the above-the-knee, fitted purple dress. Did she have a rebellious curl sticking up, a bra-strap peeking out, a forgotten sticker on the bottom of her stilettos?

She almost missed Drew pacing in front of the door. He probably waited to rip into her for not arriving on the dot.

“Is Bob waiting inside?” she asked.

Drew’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “No. He’s running late, too and so is our table. We’ll wait for him in the lounge.”

Tension rolled from every action and word spoken by him to the hostess apologizing for the late table, the manager who promised to comp dessert, and the bartender behind the counter in the lounge. Lucky for her, they’d caught the tail end of two-for-one happy hour. She’d been around him for less than fifteen minutes and already needed a drink. Tab dropped her clutch on the bar and sat down on a stool. The bartender filled their orders, two glasses of merlot for her and water for Drew.

Drew glanced up from, what she’d guess from the scowl, were unhappy messages on his cell. “Go easy on the wine. I need you sharp.”

She took a long sip. From the way things looked, a difficult night lie ahead. Wine was the only way through it. “Don’t worry. I can handle a big girl drink. As tempting as it is, I’ll refrain from jumping on the bar and doing a striptease.”

His jawline sharpened as if biting back words.

“Drew, I’m joking. Relax. Everything’s going to turn out fine.”

“It’s not fine. Why haven’t you spoken to Natalie?”

She paused in the midst of lifting her glass. “Maybe because she’s in the Amazon with no cell phone reception? Is that what you’re upset about?”

“No.” Drew drank ice water, staring as if debating what to share. “Bob is on the other side of town meeting with my competitor.”

“He told you that?”

He chuckled bitterly. “Bob isn’t as forthcoming as my sources.”

“But you made a deal, and he’s your friend. He wouldn’t make a decision behind your back.”

“He hasn’t signed yet. Nothing ties us together, so Bob can do whatever he wants. You said it yourself. I don’t know him as well as I think I do.” Lines of fatigue deepened around his eyes. Did he always push this hard? He needed a break.

She touched his leg. “Have a drink and stop worrying. You can’t sort out anything until he gets here.”

“It’s my job to sort out shit and find solutions. Nothing gets in the way of that.” His scowl deepened.

Spoiling for a fight wouldn’t help his negotiations with Bob, and she wasn’t in the mood to watch a pissing contest. She had to snap him out of it.
Sacrifices.
Sometimes a girl had to make one for the greater good.

Tab inched toward the edge of her stool. “I bet I can offer a distraction.” As she leaned to whisper in his ear, she stroked farther up his thigh. Muscle tensed underneath her palm. “I’m not wearing underwear.”

Chapter Nine

A faint ache expanded in Drew’s chest from the air hijacked in his lungs.

Tab skimmed her hand back down his thigh, and his leg bounced with an involuntary jerk. “And in case you’re wondering about yesterday morning, the Fruit Loops were absolutely delicious.” An impish grin pulled at her lips and she winked.

She was getting back at him over cereal—now? Was she insane? He’d taken the hit of her staying in his home because he’d had no choice. He’d promised her a home base, and when Margo couldn’t find one, he’d delivered. It was a big house, and he had enough work at Bode-Wynn to keep him occupied until she left. Sure, he’d goaded her in the kitchen, but she needed to have better control over her obsessions.

Tab turned and he homed in on her ass. His cock rose to cast its vote. A rock-solid ten.

“You made it.” She greeted Bob Harrison. “Good to see you.”

While Bob and Tab exchanged pleasantries, Drew reeled himself in. He managed to shake Bob’s hand, but the tightness in his throat didn’t allow room for words.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bob said, “but it looks like I’ve arrived just in time. Our table is ready. Shall we?”

Tab slipped her arm through Harrison’s, and the two strolled toward the restaurant. Her dress hugged her curves without a line in sight.

Fuck.
Why hadn’t lightning just fried his ass when he’d fallen off his Kestrel on the side of the road? He would have never had sex with her, never included her in the bargain with Bob, never risked his sanity.

During dinner, polite chit-chat gave way to Bob sharing stories with Tab. The two leaned in toward each other, deep in conversation. As usual, she emphasized points with her hands. Her sounds of agreement had the same low purr as the moans she’d vibrated into their kisses. Hunger for more built inside him. He’d hid the effect from her in the kitchen. A stinging-cold shower and his hand had finally given him relief.

The server cleared their empty plates, and Tab excused herself from the table. A part of him followed her to the ladies room. He’d lock the door behind them and find out if she was telling the truth. Regardless of what he found, he’d apply the sweetest torture with his mouth, his hands, his cock for what she’d done to him tonight. He’d make her scream with pleasure and wouldn’t give a damn who heard or how long Harrison waited at the table.

“Stop scowling.” Bob scoffed. “I’m not going to steal your girl.”

Drew drank coffee, welcoming the burning liquid as it loosened the tightening in his throat. “She’s not my girl.”

“She should be. A woman like her keeps a man on his toes.”

The server brought dessert. This was different. Bob knew everything about Shana, but they’d never had a conversation about his personal life. “Wouldn’t work. We’re too different.”

Bob laughed and stirred sugar into his coffee. “I thought the same about Grace until she started dating another man. When I told her how I felt, Grace said she wanted someone who knew how to enjoy life. I asked her to teach me.” He shook his head. “I still shudder when I think about how my life would have turned out if she hadn’t said yes and stuck by me for thirty-seven years. A man’s damn lucky if he gets a second chance. I know you went through a rough patch, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again.”

“Rough patch?” Was he kidding? “My fiancée left me and her father tried to destroy me, remember?”

“But he didn’t succeed.” Bob dropped the teaspoon and it rattled on the saucer. “If you don’t start thinking of more than the past or trying to prove you’re the best, you’ll destroy yourself. Get your head out of your ass and expand the view.”

Bob’s gaze hardened in the stare-off. Any other person Drew would send packing, but he respected the man like a father. He owed him for sticking it out with Bode-Wynn in the midst of the shit-storm Shana’s father created, but Bob was the one who needed to expand his view. Brazil wasn’t a random occurrence. His enemies wanted to take him out, and by extension Natalie. He wasn’t going to lose this contract and pray another firm did their job.

Drew leaned in. “You want me to expand my view, renew the damn contract so I can focus elsewhere. Are you ready to cut a deal?”

Tab returned and Bob gave him a noncommittal shrug. “That depends.”

Live music filtered in from the lounge.

“Sounds like they’re starting early tonight.” Bob stood and focused on Tab. “Feel like burning off dinner on the dance floor?”

“Absolutely.” She took the older man’s hand and gave Drew a quizzical look. “Are you coming?”

“In a minute.” Drew sat back in the chair and forced a calming breath.

The stubborn bastard had gone rogue, but he had to tread lightly. He didn’t have to agree with Bob, just tolerate him long enough get a signature. But his ideas about Tab, when did she get thrown in the mix? Unless he planned on keeping her busy with his cock twenty-four-seven, they’d never survive a relationship. Bob had it wrong. His second chance didn’t involve a woman, it was Bode-Wynn International. The company he’d worked his ass off along with Devin to save.

Drew settled the bill and went to the lounge. Bob twirled Tab in a fast spin. She whooped with laughter, and Bob grinned as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Screw it. If he had to sit by and watch everything go to hell, he needed a drink in his hand. He hailed the bartender. “Give me a shot of Crown. No. Make it a double.”

…

The music slowed, and Tab followed Bob’s lead into an easy sway. More people drifted into the lounge as the restaurant grew busier with dinner service. Not bad for a weekday.

“Our boy looks sad,” Bob said.

Tab resisted following his gaze over her shoulder. “Believe it or not, that’s his happy face.”

“You know him well.”

Beyond the biblical sense, all she knew about were the lows and the losses in his life. She had no idea what made him laugh, what brought him joy, or had the power to change the expression on his face.

“Well enough.” She brushed nonexistent lint from Bob’s dark-blue lapel. The expensive tailored suit rested easily on his shoulders along with an air of confidence. Not from inherited wealth but money earned in the trenches. “He’s worried about losing you.”

“Then he’s worried about the wrong thing.”

“So you’ll sign with him.”

Bob chuckled. “I didn’t say that. I’m not trying to torture him, but negotiating my contract is the hardest I’ve seen him stretch in a long time.”

“What?” Her steps faltered. “He’s the most disciplined, driven man I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t work hard. In fact, he works too hard trying to keep everything locked down and under control. Nothing happens that isn’t planned. If it’s not according to his agenda, he refuses to do it another way. Not renewing my contract is one of the most unexpected occurrences in his life. Things aren’t happening as expected, and it’s forcing him to take notice of what’s going on around him. Not signing could be the best thing I’ve ever done for him.”

If Harrison leaves, it’ll hurt him.
That’s what Mitch had said. How could Bob not signing bring any good to the situation? “He doesn’t show it, but he values your approval. If you leave, he’ll think you’ve lost faith in him.”

Bob’s jaw locked into a stubborn line. “He needs to engage with life, not run it like a hamster on a wheel. I hate to say it, but the last time I saw him with any real fire in his eyes was after the accident.” Bob danced her away from the amps and speakers to a quieter spot on the dance floor. “In the hospital, he’d just taken the blow from Shana and her father when the doctors told him he had two choices, a wheelchair or at best a cane. He never told his family the prognosis or what he was going through over Shana. He kept everyone at a distance, even Devin. He fought to stand all on his own. Eight months later he walked. Four months later, he finished his first race.”

Her vision blurred, and she stumbled. She couldn’t imagine facing such a heavy loss and so much pain without her friends or family. It made him strong, but what had it cost him in return?

Bob altered his pace to compensate for her clumsiness and smoothly maneuvered her around the floor. “Somewhere along the line, the fire that pushed him forward after the accident turned into a protective ring he won’t deviate from or let anyone into. Eventually, it will consume him. He needs to allow people who care about him back into his life.”