Need You Tonight
Roni Loren

Dedication

To my husband, my family, and my readers. Without your support, I would just be that weird girl who spends way too much time thinking about imaginary people.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Roni Loren

Praise for Roni Loren

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

Someone’s naked ass is on my imported marble countertops. That was Tessa’s first thought when she walked into her kitchen that warm Tuesday afternoon. Not, Why is Doug home this early? Or, Why does he have his pants around his ankles? And most definitely not Why is my best friend moaning like an injured cat? Nope. Tessa’s brain couldn’t absorb those things just yet. Instead all she could think about was how there was a butt cheek sliding along the spot where she’d chopped strawberries for breakfast.

The two occupants in the kitchen didn’t even notice they were no longer alone, apparently too caught up in their counter defiling to bother. God, were they that oblivious and swept up in passion? It’s not like she’d been particularly quiet walking in. And she’d slept with the man who’d dropped trou in this little tableau for the last thirteen years. She knew he didn’t inspire losing yourself to the moment. But maybe he saved his good tricks for Tuesday afternoons when he fucked the woman Tessa would’ve trusted her life with before today.

Tessa cleared her throat, attempting to draw their attention, but all that greeted her was the sound of Doug telling that lying bitch how hot she was. Rage washed through Tessa in a slow, powerful roll, boiling up and over until she was shaking with it. She calmly set down her purse next to the fruit bowl and wrapped her hand around a large navel orange. Without pausing to reflect, she lifted the fruit and launched it right at her husband’s head.

It went whizzing past him without notice, sailing into the living room, but she couldn’t stop herself now. She picked up another and hurled it even harder. This one hit him right on the ear with a fat thud.

“What the fuck?” Doug’s hand went up to his ear, and he swiveled his head her way. “Shit.”

The traitor on the counter opened her eyes then, her gaze going wide.

But Tessa kept throwing. Oranges, apples, a grapefruit that landed with satisfying impact. It was as if some other force had possessed her. Fruit whizzed across the kitchen, pelting the both of them as they scrambled to get up and pull their clothes around themselves.

“Ow, Tessa, stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Doug roared as he yanked at his pants with one hand while trying to fend off flying fruit with the other.

“What is wrong with me? Me?!” Tessa shouted, knowing she sounded like a lunatic but unable to stop herself.

“Tessa, honey,” Marilyn said, hands out in front of her, blouse still hanging open. “Let’s just calm down, okay?”

Tessa pinned her former best friend with a glare. “Did you just dare speak to me?”

“Marilyn, sweetheart,” Doug said softly, putting a hand on her elbow and blocking her from Tessa with his body. “Why don’t you get out of here? I’ll deal with her.”

Sweetheart? Deal with her? Loud, crashing bells were going off in Tessa’s head. She was glad the knife block was out of reach because she wasn’t sure she could trust herself in that moment.

Marilyn nodded after a quick, worried glance at Tessa then hurried through the living room toward the sliding glass doors that led to the pool area and a backyard exit. Apparently, she knew better than to try to walk by Tessa to get to the front door. Wise move. Because Tessa was ready to throw down Jerry Springer style.

With a tired sigh, Doug turned back to Tessa, his fly still unbuttoned and his dick still half-mast behind the material. The bastard hadn’t even lost his erection. In fact, he looked more annoyed that he’d been interrupted than ashamed of what he’d done. Tessa’s fist balled. “You lying, cheating asshole.”

He pulled on his dress shirt and looked around at the carnage of busted fruit on the floor. “Call the maid and have her come in early to clean this up. It’ll draw ants if it sits too long. I’ve got to get back to my office.”

Tessa blinked, almost too stunned to speak. “That’s what you have to say for yourself?”

“You don’t want to hear what I have to say.” He adjusted his cuffs like it was any other day of getting ready for work and not like the whole foundation of their marriage had shattered beneath them.

“Oh, no. I really do,” she said, seething.

His mouth curled in condescension. “Fine. You want to hear that I need something on the side? That you don’t satisfy all of my needs?”

“Your needs?” If she’d had another piece of citrus to throw, she would’ve reached for it then. How many nights had she put all she had into pleasing him even when he hadn’t put half the effort toward her? How many times had she donned expensive lingerie trying to catch his eye? She’d been willing to do anything for him. She’d loved him.

And he’d been screwing around on her the whole time. With her best friend. The thought almost doubled her over. She reached out and grabbed the edge of the counter.

“Look, you’re upset. I get it. But, Tessa, it’s just sex. I don’t love them, and I’m not going to leave you for any of them. They’re not a threat to you.”

“You have the nerve to talk to me about love right now?” she asked, her throat trying to close. Them. So it was more than Marilyn. She wondered if Marilyn knew she was just the tramp in the Tuesday slot on his calendar. “You’re disgusting.”

His lips curved back into that patronizing smirk he was so good at. “And you’re boring in bed and my intellectual inferior, but I’ve learned to live with it. At least you’re nice to look at now that you’ve gotten your gym routine back on course.”

The hateful words knocked the breath right out of her. Doug had said mean things to her before in the heat of the moment. They’d been together since high school, so of course they’d had their fights. He could be critical beyond reason, always watching that she didn’t eat too many calories or go outdoors without makeup or say the wrong thing in public. She’d tolerated it because she knew how concerned about image he was in his role as the great Pastor Barrett of the Living Light mega-church. And she’d comforted herself with those moments when he was sweet and indulgent with her behind closed doors. He had the capacity to make her feel like a princess. And even though those times had grown few and far between over the last few years, she’d had no idea his opinion of her had sunk so low. Boring in bed. Inferior. Stupid.

God, is that what he told the women he cheated on her with? My wife isn’t too bright, and she’s clueless in the sack.

She grabbed her purse, her stomach threatening to toss up all its contents. She couldn’t stand here for another second and look at his smarmy face, smell the scent of sex in the air. “Go to hell, Doug. I hope you’re happy with your college-educated whores. Now you won’t have to worry about me getting in the way.”

He scoffed. “Come on, Tessa. Stop being melodramatic. You’re not going to divorce me. Your life and everything in it exists because of me. Leave and it all goes away. You’re going to give up all this just because I like a novel fuck every now and then? Please. You wouldn’t even know how to survive without a man taking care of you.” He grabbed his wallet and flipped a piece a plastic her way. “Here, take the credit card. Go punish me by buying something useless and extravagant—you’re good at that—and we’ll move on.”

The credit card landed at her feet, and she had the urge to spear its platinum face with the heel of her Jimmy Choo pump. He was right. If she left him, every bit of her lifestyle would disappear in a poof. From the clothes on her back to the oranges she’d hurled—all of it was funded by him. There’d be no way to prove his affair in court, not with the legal demons he could afford to hire. And she’d signed a prenup. She’d be left with a pittance of alimony. All the comfort and security she’d worked toward her whole life would be gone. She’d be back where she started all those years ago—a nobody with nothing.

Alone. With no money of her own and only a high-school education to her name.

She bent and picked up the card from the floor, turning it in her fingers before dropping it in her purse.

Doug smiled, satisfied. Victorious.

Without another word, she turned on her heels and calmly walked back out to her Mercedes. When she made it into town, she bought the two most extravagant things she could think of.

The services of an attorney.

And a plane ticket home.

It’d be the last of Doug Barrett’s money she’d ever spend.

ONE

“Hold up. Why are you buying condoms?” Tessa snatched the box of Trojans from Sam’s fingertips and held them up like Exhibit A. “You said this was an emergency stop.”

Sam sent her an innocent look, one that Tessa had seen her use rather effectively on both sets of foster parents she’d shared with Sam. “What? I’m out. And we may need them.”

“You may need condoms,” Tessa repeated. “For a cooking class.”

Sam grabbed another box from the rack. “We may need them. I’ll get some for you, too. You never know who we might meet.”

Tessa groaned and looked up at the buzzing fluorescent lights of the drugstore. Sam’s ability to look for dating opportunities around every corner never failed to amaze Tessa. “We’re not going to meet anyone. It’s a cooking class. It’s going to be married couples, women, and gay men.”

Which is exactly why Tessa had agreed to go. After months of Sam trying to drag her out to bars or clubs on Friday nights to get her over that “dickwad ex-husband,” finally her friend had come up with something that didn’t make Tessa’s stomach turn and her body break out into a cold sweat. But now, as she took in Sam’s snug skirt and high heels, Tessa’s dread was growing. She’d thought Sam had simply chosen to dress up because the class was being held at one of the swankiest restaurants in Dallas. But now the puzzle pieces were locking together into a new picture.

“Straight men like to cook, too,” Sam pointed out as she strolled away from the prophylactics aisle toward the cosmetics section. “Particularly when it’s a Perfect Match meet-up event.”

Tessa’s shoe squeaked on the floor as she halted midstride. “Sam, you better be screwing with me.”

Sam grabbed a lip gloss off a rack and held the colored cap next to Tessa’s mouth, frowned, then picked up a different color. “I’m not screwing with you. I’m helping you. My friend is the receptionist at the local Perfect Match office. She offered to sneak us onto the list because the event wasn’t full. How could I pass it up? It was like fate tapping my shoulder. You want to scratch items off your list. This will accomplish that and maybe get you a date as a bonus. Two for the price of one.”

“Learning to cook is on my list. Dating is not. Dating is actually diametrically opposed to the whole spirit of the list.”

“Diametrically? Wow, someone’s getting As in her night classes.” Sam gave her a teasing smile and dropped the lip gloss into her handbasket. “And if I’m not mistaken, one of the items you have on that sacred to-do list of yours is to tackle being ‘boring in bed.’ How exactly do you plan to fix that one without actually coming into contact with the opposite sex?”

A guy perusing greeting cards across the aisle gave them a sideways glance and smirked. Tessa’s face heated. “Could you at least try to keep your voice down while discussing my sex life?”

“What sex life?” Sam replied, not bothering to lower her voice. “This is exactly why we’re going tonight. You need to loosen up. Be open to a world of infinite possibilities. And by possibilities, I mean hot men.”

“Ugh.” She should’ve never let Sam see her stupid list. It’d been something she’d written down in those first few weeks after she’d left Doug and her life in Atlanta. She’d landed in Dallas with no plan, no place to stay, no job. All she’d had was her suitcase and a head filled with all the critical things Doug had said to her over the course of their marriage and that final day in the kitchen.

He’d said she was nothing without him.

And as she’d sat in Sam’s guest room one night, trying to put together a resume to apply for jobs and feeling sorry for herself, she’d realized the bastard had been right on some level. Since she’d met Doug in high school, her entire existence had been centered on being who he wanted her to be. Being what everyone wanted her to be. For Doug, it was the doting girlfriend. For her classmates, it was the bubbly, popular cheerleader. For her foster parents, it was the girl who never broke the rules and went to church with them every Sunday.

She’d been a master chameleon without ever realizing it. It’d kept her from being moved to yet another home. It’d kept her safe from the vicious bullying in high school. It’d given her a way to secure a future with a man who would take care of her. She’d never be that little girl left alone and scared again.

Only the whole plan had been built out of Popsicle sticks. She’d counted on someone else for her happiness and security. A fatal mistake. How had she ever let herself be so stupid as to trust someone again? Her mother had said she’d always be there and look how that had turned out. Trust was for suckers.

As Tessa had stared at that blinking cursor, she’d made a decision. Never would she let herself depend on anyone else again. She would survive on her own. She’d done it for years as a kid. She could do it now. And she wouldn’t just make it through, she’d transform. Thrive. She’d vowed that by the end of the year, a resume of her life would no longer be a stark blank page. She would take those insults Doug had hurled at her and use them as fuel, not only to find a job but to tackle every facet of her life. She’d prove that she was more than the trophy wife she’d let herself become.

But that plan had not included dating. Sex, maybe. Eventually. She didn’t plan to enter the convent and abstain for the rest of her life. But dating and any emotional entanglements would only send her sliding backward. “Sam, I’m not ready to date. You know that.”

Sam sighed and linked her arm with Tessa’s, leading her to the register. “So come for the food and cooking lesson then. The whole point of these meet-ups is that it’s a no pressure environment. And we’re getting sangria and a fancy meal for free. How long has it been since you’ve had a chance to eat at a restaurant that doesn’t serve food wrapped in greasy paper?”

Tessa groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

One of the main reasons she was interested in cooking classes in the first place was because she missed the delicious meals Doug’s housekeeper used to prepare for them and all the gourmet restaurants she and Doug had gone to regularly. If she had to eat another bowl of canned soup, she might stab herself with the spoon. But she didn’t have the income to fund nice restaurants anymore. So if she wanted to eat something that wasn’t frozen or canned, she was going to have to learn how to cook it herself.

Sam swiped her credit card and took her bag from the cashier. “Exactly. Barcelona is one of the hottest restaurants around. This is your chance for a major treat. The only sacrifice is that you’ll have to make small talk with a stranger who happens to have a penis. Big deal.”

Tessa sighed, her ability to fight against Sam’s hopeful gaze crumbling. Sam had good intentions, even if they were misguided. And really, what was a little awkward small talk with someone Tessa would never see again when there was free sangria to be had? “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for tapas.”

Sam’s face broke into a grin, and she pulled out the lip gloss to give it to Tessa. “Gloss up, babe. Let’s go cook some shrimp and break some hearts.”

When Tessa walked through the doors of Barcelona, it was like walking through a portal to a world she wasn’t a native of anymore. Soft Spanish music played, the scent of exotic spices drifted through the air, and the saffron-colored walls flickered with the dancing light of candlelit tables. Every detail screamed trendy elegance and money. As did most of the guests sitting at the tables. She could almost see her old self sitting among them, glass in hand, diamonds sparkling at her throat, her husband sitting across from her telling her about the latest plan he was working on. Anyone looking at them would’ve been envious.

But seeing the image in her mind’s eye now showed a picture that was warped and tarnished. An illusion. The conversation would’ve been one-sided because Tessa had never understood Doug’s business speak. The diamond choker around her neck would’ve probably been a guilt gift he’d given her after one of his affairs. And the glass would’ve been filled with sparkling water instead of wine because Doug didn’t allow drinking for either of them in public.

She didn’t miss this world.

And she didn’t miss that woman.

“Hello, ladies, do you have a reservation?” the host asked.

Sam stepped forward. “We’re here for the cooking class.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, his smile welcoming. “Follow me. You’ll be in the banquet room.”

The host led them through the main dining area and then through a short hallway and another set of doors. The banquet room looked much like the other side of the restaurant, but the lights weren’t as low and there were tables set up around the perimeter with cooking equipment and little bowls of ingredients. In the center of the room, there were smaller, more intimate tables where they’d presumably eat their meal after learning how to prepare it. Pitchers of sangria gleamed ruby red on each table. A number of people were already sitting at the small tables, mingling and drinking. The tinkling sounds of nervous, first-date laughter mixed in with the music.

Tessa’s stomach did a flip, and she almost turned to leave. Sam put a hand on Tessa’s arm, as if reading her unspoken intention, and guided her forward. “Don’t chicken out now.”

A man with a clipboard near the entrance grinned brightly. “Welcome to the meet-up ladies. I’m Jim, your event liaison for the night. Names?”

“I’m Samantha Dunbar, and this is Tessa McAllen.”

Jim scanned the clipboard, nodding. “Ms. Dunbar, your perfect match is Cory Heath, table five. He’s already here if you’d like to head over and say hi. We’re letting everyone chat and enjoy their drinks for a few minutes before the class starts. Break the ice, you know?”

“Sure,” Sam said, peeking over at the salt and pepper-haired guy at table five, scanning him from head to loafer. “Sounds good.”

But Tessa’s brain snagged. “Wait a second. I thought we were mingling with everyone?”

Jim smiled. “Oh, no, ma’am. Perfect Match is full service. We took the profile you sent us and matched you up with someone compatible for the evening. No use wasting time on people you have nothing in common with, right?”

“The profile I sent in?” Tessa asked, shooting daggers at Sam.

Sam sent her a please-don’t-kill-me look and gave Tessa’s hand a squeeze. “Just try to have a good time, okay? I promise, it’s no big deal. It’ll be fun.”

With that, Sam hurried off toward her “perfect match.” Tessa had to fight hard not to lose it right there. Not only was she going to have to manage a date with a stranger, but said stranger would be under the impression that they’d been matched together. And God only knew what Sam had put in Tessa’s profile. Probably that she enjoyed long walks on the beach, tantric sex, and belly dancing.

Jim was scanning his list again, and Tessa smoothed the front of her dress. She hadn’t thought to put much effort into her outfit tonight. This was supposed to be a cooking class after all. So she’d stayed in the pale pink blouse and black skirt she’d worn to work. But now she felt plain and out of place. Everyone else had put on their A-game ensemble for date night.

God, why was she even worrying about it? This isn’t a real date. She’d been trained by Doug to look her best at all times because you never knew who you’d run into, and sometimes that old urge was hard to shake. But she wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to drink sangria and to learn how to cook. That’s it.

The door opened behind her as more people came in.

“Ms. McAllen?” Jim asked, a small frown curving his thin lips as he lifted his gaze from the clipboard. “Do you have your confirmation number with you? You’re not showing on my list.”

“My what?” She automatically put her hand on her purse but knew she had nothing of the sort in there. “No. My friend set all this up for us both.”

“Hmm.” Jim tapped his pencil on the clipboard. “Well, I’m not showing you on here, which means we don’t have confirmation of your payment. If you’d like to pay the fee now, we can let you stay for the class. Then if you find your confirmation, we’ll refund you. But since you weren’t on the list, we won’t have a match set up for you. You’d be staying for the cooking portion only unless we have any other walk-ins.”

No match? That sounded like a fantastic idea. She’d never been so happy to be left off a guest list. “How much is it?”

“Two hundred dollars.”

A gasp escaped her lips. Two hundred dollars? She should’ve expected it at a place like this, but the number still caught her off guard. And it was a number she couldn’t fund. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to find out what happened to my original fee and do this another time. Maybe I can talk to my friend and see if she has the information.”

He smiled kindly, but she saw the instant dismissal in his eyes. He knew she was bailing because she didn’t have the money. He knew she didn’t belong there. “Of course.”

Shame tried to edge in, heating her cheeks. But she swallowed it back. She would not get teary over missing some stupid cooking class. She took a step to head toward Sam’s table, hoping that even though they were technically party crashers, her friend had some magical confirmation number. But before she could move forward, a warm hand touched her elbow.

“I’ll cover the fee.”

She stiffened at the touch, but the rich timbre of the man’s voice rolled over Tessa like sun-heated ocean water, making her want to close her eyes and soak in it, stay there a while. She turned around, her gaze going up, up, up, and finally colliding with clear blue eyes, a face made for Greek sculpture, and lips … God, his lips. She couldn’t imagine those had ever been used for anything but sex and sin.

She wanted to bite them.

As that image flitted through her mind, any shot she had at a normal, polite response evaporated into mist.

“I’d hate for you to miss one of the best meals of your life because of a computer glitch,” the man said with a ghost of a smile.

Tessa simply stared back like she hadn’t understood the language he spoke. The way he held her gaze had her thoughts scattering and her brain reaching for some memory she couldn’t quite grab ahold of. She shook her head, breaking the gaze and trying to clear her head. No. Get it together, Tessa. This stranger was offering to pay two-hundred dollars for her to eat. She knew how that worked. She’d played that game before. “Really, that’s very kind of you to offer. But I’ll just come back another time.”

He pulled his wallet from his pocket, pulled two crisp bills from it, and handed it to Jim. “I insist. And it’s no problem. I’m sure they’ll pay me back when they find your original reservation.”

Tessa shook her head again, even though her mind was already fast-forwarding and picturing how decadent it would be to sit and sip sangrias with this stranger. But she couldn’t fall into her old habits and let him pay her way. It didn’t matter that he was gorgeous or that he didn’t seem to mind or that he was wearing a watch that said two-hundred dollars was insignificant for him. “I’m sorry. I can’t take your money.”

Before the stranger could protest, she moved past him and the few people waiting behind them to head for the door. She needed to get out—now. She knew it was ridiculous, but she had the sudden urge to cry, to scream, to pound on something. All she’d wanted tonight was to relax and have a fun girl’s night with Sam. Instead, she’d been reminded of the life she used to have, how feeble her bank account was now, and how fucked up she was when it came to men.

She moved through the hallway that led back to the main dining room in a rush, hoping to reach the parking lot before the tears broke free, but a hand touched her shoulder. “Hey, hold up.”

The quiet command of his voice and the gentleness of the touch had her slowing her step before she could think better of it. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and turned around, speech prepared. But when she saw the genuine concern on his face, her words got stuck in her throat.

He tucked his hands in his pockets, the move pulling his black dress shirt snug across what looked to be long, lean muscles beneath. His eyes scanned hers. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to chase you off.”

She put her hand to her too-hot forehead, trying to catch her breath and center herself. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. I’m fine. This night just isn’t working out like I thought it would.”

“Expected to meet your perfect match?”

She made a sound that was some mixture of a snort, a sob, and a laugh. “Ha. Hardly. What a joke that is. A perfect match.”

His mouth lifted at the corner, his blue eyes dancing in the flickering light of the wall sconces. “Come on, you don’t think there’s the perfect someone out there for everyone? Someone who’s meant to fit only with you? All the movies say so.”

“Movies sell us a bill of goods,” she said flatly. All that mystical aligning of stars was such bullshit. People got into relationships for what it could do for them. When the benefit ran out, they moved on. She’d seen that proven over and over again.

“Uh-huh,” he said, his tone teasing. “So you’re telling me you paid two-hundred dollars to attend something you don’t buy into?”

“I didn’t pay,” she admitted. “A friend told me she’d get me on the list. And I—I wanted to learn to cook and to taste the food.”

He glanced back at the closed door and chuckled. “Ooh, a party crasher. How scandalous.”

His low laugh was like a gust of summer air across her nerve endings, reminding her of someone long ago. Someone she hadn’t had to be a chameleon for. She found herself smiling, her dour mood lifting. “That’s me. A scandal a minute. And now I’m causing more. I’m sure your perfect match date is anxiously awaiting you inside.”

“Nah, I’m not sold on a perfect match, either. But instant attraction …” He stepped closer and the air in the room thickened and warmed. “That I subscribe to. So, Ms. Party Crasher, answer me one question. Are you leaving because you were opposed to the money or me?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the question and his nearness. “What?”

“You came here tonight to take a class and have a nice meal. I was happy to help you do that. So, did you turn down my offer because you think the money comes with strings or is it because you’re opposed to spending the evening with me?”

“I—” She wet her lips. The way he’d said spend the evening with me had her mind conjuring pictures of him braced over her, his blond hair mussed, his eyes burning through her, and that sensual mouth whispering dirty, filthy things in her ear. Her thighs clenched, and she tried to come up with something to say that wasn’t, God, you’re beautiful, please push me up against this wall and make me forget my name. “I can’t accept the money.”

That answer seemed to please him. “And me?”

She couldn’t tell if it was the warm, smoky spices from the restaurant mixing in, but even the scent of him was exotic and dangerous, tempting. She wanted to bury her face in the open collar of his shirt and inhale. And possibly lick. No, scratch the possibly on that, tasting would definitely need to be involved. All her resolve disintegrated in the space between breaths. “I’m not opposed.”

He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, the simple brush of fingers like lightning rods touching her skin. “So if I promised you I wouldn’t pay a dime for the rest of the evening, would you agree to spend it with me?”

She swallowed hard, the notion almost too much for her psyche to absorb. She knew what he was offering wasn’t simply dinner and a chat. There was a ripple of heat beneath each uttered word, a promise. Her body was on board with this plan, whether her good sense agreed or not. Already, she could feel the flush of arousal tightening her nipples and making her panties cling. She hadn’t been touched by anyone since Doug, and her experiences with him had always been underwhelming. Just being close to this mystery man made everything inside her feel hot and alive. But it’d be stupid and reckless to say yes. She’d never had a one-night stand. She didn’t even know if she was capable of it. Plus, what if she really was boring in bed?

She’d told herself that Doug had thrown that out there just to hurt her, but what if there was some truth to it? Her sexual history was nearly nil since she’d gotten married so young. What if she hopped in bed with this guy and was completely out of her league?

“I can’t leave. I’m my friend’s ride,” she said, her voice thready and breathless from him being so close.

His smile was slow, sexy. “I never said we had to leave.”

She closed her eyes, his mere presence overwhelming her system and making her heart pound in her throat. “What do you mean?”

His breath brushed her ear. “Take my hand, and I’ll show you.”

A shiver worked its way down her neck and along her skin. Every nerve ending screamed for his touch, all the years of pent-up frustration surging to the surface and demanding relief. She needed this escape, this release. She needed to feel like a woman again.

When she looked up at him finally, the pure confidence and interest shining there in his eyes had her nerves smoothing. She knew in that moment that this man would never allow her to be boring in bed. This was a man who got what he wanted. A man who wouldn’t be afraid to tell her exactly what to do, how he liked it, and how he was going to have her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t so interested in sangria anymore.

Or sitting in the car alone to have a good cry.

She reached out and let her hand slide into his.

Maybe she’d scratch something off her list tonight after all.

TWO

After settling her at the bar, Tessa’s mystery date ordered her a sangria.

“Hey, you said you weren’t going to spend any money,” she reminded him. Not that she was opposed to a guy buying her a drink, but she was holding him to his word.

“On the house, ma’am,” the bartender offered as he slid the fruity concoction her way.

Tessa lifted an eyebrow at her date. “Are you the house?”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a boyish expression that almost looked out of place on his Nordic features. “Something like that. Will you excuse me for a few minutes while I get us a table?”

“That’s fine.” She lifted her drink in mock salute and sipped, the rich taste like an elixir for her nerves. God, she’d missed good wine. “I’ll keep this lonely drink company.”

“Lucky for the drink.” He looked to the bartender. “Make sure the lady has whatever she likes.”

“Yes, sir,” the bartender said with a quick nod as he poured drinks for other guests.

Before he could turn to leave, she reached for his shirtsleeve, a sudden thought hitting her. “Wait, I don’t even know your name.”

His smile was easy, pleased. “I know. Yet, you said yes anyway.”

She bristled. Well, hell, what did he mean by that? That she was some trampy chick that didn’t even worry about names before she let some stranger seduce her in a hallway? She frowned, her own internal answer surprising her. Shit. Did she care about his name? This wasn’t a real date. It wasn’t get-to-know-you-to-see-if-we’re-meant-to-be time. They both understood what this was. His name, what he did for a living, where he lived—did any of that matter tonight?

No. It didn’t. In fact, maybe it’d be easier if she didn’t know all that much about him. That’d make it easier to keep this casual and fun. No risk.

“Call me Van,” he said smoothly.

“Van,” she repeated. She got the distinct impression that was some sort of nickname. He wasn’t offering his last, and she wasn’t asking. And if he was going to use a semi-faux name, so could she. “Contessa.”

That was the name on her birth certificate, so it wasn’t a lie. But she hadn’t used the pretentious-sounding thing since elementary school and had legally changed it to Tessa a few years back. However, it was the perfect fit for her night off from her real life. Tonight she wasn’t going to be the recovering trophy wife trying to scrape her way through this new life. Tonight she was going to be a carefree woman who’d scored a fling with a man so freaking gorgeous, he looked like he could’ve walked off a movie set. And she refused to feel bad or guilty about it. She deserved this indulgence, dammit.

“Contessa.” Van said her name as if he were rolling it around on his tongue and tasting the flavor of it. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the top of it while holding her gaze. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She swallowed hard as a hot shiver chased up her arm and down her spine. Man, he was good. Good enough that she should probably be running the other way. Men that smooth and good-looking were dangerous. But hell if she could bring herself to move. Or speak.

“Stay put, Contessa. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He released her hand, leaving her tongue-tied, and headed toward the main dining room. Tessa turned back to the bar to gather herself. She wrapped her palms around her glass to steady her shaking hands. The bartender gave her a quick glance and a barely concealed smirk. Jesus, she must look like some swooning twit. But this wasn’t even close to a fair fight. It’d been so long since she’d had a man lay his charm on her, and certainly never one with as much presence as Van.

Looking back, she realized Doug had never had to truly charm or court her. He’d won her with over-the-top flattery, pretty words, and expensive gifts. Things her inexperience had mistaken for love. He hadn’t had to work any harder than that. He’d been handsome and popular. A jock. The perfect match to her cheerleader. And he’d made her promises she was starved for—promises of security, permanence, and safety. A home she would never have to leave.

What a fucking joke it had all been. He’d wanted a wife for window-dressing. Maybe he’d loved her at some point, or thought he had, but obviously anything that had been there had quickly faded, especially after they’d tried to have kids and failed. She’d been stupid to believe marriage would give her some sort of instafamily, some place in the world. Marriage was a sham sold by fairy tales and movies. Of all her married friends, how many had made it past that ten-year mark? Probably not even half. And the ones who were still together, how many were fooling around behind their spouse’s back like Doug was?

She finished her drink and ordered a second.

No, this was better. She had her eyes wide open now. No starry-eyed love or misplaced trust mucking up the waters. Tonight she’d probably sleep with Van. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t call her. And she wouldn’t be waiting for him to do so. No expectations or obligations. No need for lies and pretenses.

In fact, the faux name was going to be her first and last fib of the night. If they were going to have a date, she was going to be one-hundred-percent honest and completely herself. Not the version she thought he wanted to see. She was done with all those bullshit games she’d played for so long. If that screwed things up, then so be it. He didn’t deserve to see her naked if that was the case.

A warm hand pressed against her lower back, startling her off her internal soapbox.

“I’m ready for you now.”

She wet her lips and set her drink down. The way he’d said it—I’m ready for you instead of Are you ready?—had made something flutter inside her. Nerves. Anticipation. She wasn’t sure, but the feeling was far from unpleasant. She turned to face him, letting him help her off the stool. “Where to?”

He offered her his crooked arm. “Follow me.”

They walked through the dining room, turning a few heads. She didn’t doubt the glances were for Van and not her. Something about the man called for attention. Not just his height and good looks, but some regal air that enveloped him. She scanned the room as they walked, looking for empty tables, but the place was packed. When they reached the back of the restaurant, Van led her away from the dining room and toward a door down a small hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“Up,” he said, pulling the door open for her and guiding her forward.

A set of stairs greeted her along with a chain that had a Closed sign hanging from it. She peeked back over her shoulder. “I don’t think we’re supposed to go up here.”

He leaned past her and unhooked the chain. “I promise they won’t kick us out.”

So he worked here apparently. Maybe he was the general manager or one of the owners. That last one was a distinct possibility. The man definitely strolled around like he owned the place. But she had a feeling he walked around every place like that. Without voicing her questions, she headed up the stairs. When she reached the door at the top, Van stepped past her and pushed the door open.

She sucked in a breath at the unexpected gust of cool air and the view on the other side. A rooftop deck spread out before them, complete with quaint little tables and a vine-covered pergola laced with twinkle lights overhead. On the far end, there was a long, rustic table with candles and a full outdoor stove and grill.

“Wow, this is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite spot in the restaurant. But we don’t use it during the winter months except for the occasional party.”

“Or for a random woman you pilfer from an online dating event.”

He grinned. “Exactly. But I think it’s warm enough tonight to not be a problem.”

“So we’re going to make some poor waiter traipse up here to serve us food?”

“Nah,” Van said, taking her hand and leading her forward. “You came here to learn how to cook. So we won’t need any staff.”

As they got closer to the long table, she saw there were little bowls of ingredients on the far end like they’d had at the event. She glanced over at him. “You’re going to teach me to cook?”

He cocked his head, looking playfully offended. “What? You don’t think I can cook?”

She let her perusal of him travel from the top of his head down the front of his black dress shirt and gray trousers to the tips of his clearly expensive shoes. “You don’t look like you spend a lot of time in a kitchen.”

“And you don’t look like a woman who’d spend her evening crashing a date meet-up. But looks can be deceiving, right?” He let go of her hand with a smirk, unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up his forearms.

For some reason, the simple movement fascinated her, like she was watching his urbane shell being peeled back and revealing the real man beneath. She pulled her attention away from those big, capable hands. “So what kind of woman do I look like then?”

He gave her a similar head-to-toe assessment then met her gaze. “One who doesn’t usually break the rules or take a risk.”

She scoffed. “Oh, really?”

His smile was knowing as he grabbed a knife and cutting board from the counter then placed a wedge of white cheese on it. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m up here with you, aren’t I?” she said, challenging him.

He moved the knife as if marking a point in her favor on an invisible scoreboard. “Touché.”

Following his lead, she grabbed a loaf of crusty bread and another knife to start slicing it. “So you admit you’re a risk?”

Before she could cut into the bread, he laid his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Don’t use that knife. You need a serrated one for that kind of bread.”

She glanced down at his hand on hers, the warmth of his touch a little too welcome. “Oh, right.”

He replaced the knife with one that had a jagged edge. “And I’m no more of a risk than going to the dating event and sitting with a stranger.”

“So this is a date?”

He took one of the slices of bread, placed a piece of cheese atop it, and then held it in front of her lips. She opened her mouth and let him feed her a bite of bread and cheese. He was so close now, she could see the flecks of green mixing with the blue in his eyes. Somehow he managed to both intimidate and cajole in one simple look. “It’s whatever you want it to be, Contessa.”

The salty cheese hit her taste buds, and she had to remind herself to chew, to breathe.

“Good?” he asked.

She nodded, though the movement felt stiff. “Manchego. One of my favorites.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “A woman who knows her gourmet cheeses but doesn’t know how to use a bread knife? Interesting.”

She was tempted to refute that claim, tell him it was a lucky guess, but she stopped herself. No more lying.

“I don’t want this to be a date,” she blurted out.

His forehead creased. “What?”

“I don’t want this to be a date,” she repeated. “Dates suck. It’s two people telling each other what they think the other person wants to hear and hoping they get it right. It’s a farce.”

He leaned back against the table as if giving her space to voice her opinion. “Okay, so what would you like this to be?”

“Let’s make this an un-date. No fronts, no lies, and no ridiculous promises to call the next day. You didn’t invite me up here because you think I could be some perfect match for your future. And I didn’t come up here for that either.”

He’d been watching her with equal parts amusement and intrigue, but now a flicker of something else edged in, something that made her insides flip over. “So what did you come up here for, Contessa?”

Well, here it was, her opportunity to put her money where her mouth was and be blatantly honest. He was probably going to run, but so be it if he did. “A year ago, I walked in on my husband cheating with my best friend. Instead of even pretending to be sorry, he proceeded to give me a long list of my faults and told me to get used to his affairs.”

Sharp disapproval flashed over Van’s features.

But she didn’t let his reaction stop her. She needed to lay it all out there. “I left him, my life blew up, and now I’m putting the pieces back in place. I’m not looking to date anyone. I’m not looking for love or even a boyfriend. I came up here tonight because I haven’t felt desire in a long time, and you made me feel that in the hallway.”

“Contessa—”

She took a deep breath. “I came up here to use you, Van. To be used. I need a night off from … all of it.”

The shift in his expression was enough to have any remaining words shriveling in her throat. All traces of his sympathy over her story had vanished and in its place, unadulterated lust took root. “Text your friend and tell her you’ve found a ride. I’ll have your keys sent down to her.”

The command in his voice rippled through her. “But I—”

He pushed off the table and stood in front of her, cupping her chin. “You told me your reasons, now do you want to hear mine? I brought you up here because from the moment you walked into the restaurant tonight, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I would’ve sat through a cooking class about dishes I created just to be next to you. Let me give you your night off.”

She was jittery in his grasp, her body literally vibrating with the need for him to touch her more. “But the cooking class still has two hours left. We could—”

He pressed a finger against his lips. “I promise I’ll need more than two hours. I haven’t even given you your first lesson yet.”

Her heart was thumping and blood was roaring through her veins, heating all the best spots. She couldn’t do this, right? She didn’t even know this guy. Considering a quickie with him had been risky enough. But sending her ride home and spending the whole night with him was a whole different story. “I can’t go home with you.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips along her jaw, his blond hair falling forward and tickling her cheek. “We don’t have to go anywhere but here.”

Even the simple touch had her ready to groan aloud, her body starved for this kind of night. This kind of man. How long had it been since she’d felt so desired, so utterly seduced? Maybe never. Somehow, Van made it all feel so easy, so natural. Like saying no would be a preposterous notion. Even though it was the most logical answer.

But that logic angel sitting on her shoulder didn’t seem to have much fight to her tonight. No, instead there was another altogether deviant voice whispering in her ear. Stop denying yourself. You need this. You’ve earned an indulgence. A woman should not live by vibrator alone.

She took a long, shuddering breath, letting the temptation take her under. “I’ll text her.”

“Good girl,” Van said, the words she’d normally find patronizing like a hot caress against her. “I’ll make sure it’s worth the trouble.”

After Tessa had sent the text and gotten one back from Sam, complete with about twelve exclamation points following her OMG, Van left for a few minutes to bring her keys down. And he must have brought them in person because Sam sent another text shortly afterward.

HOLY shit, girl. U’ve hit the hookup lottery. Enjoy the condoms!

Tessa was still laughing when Van came through the doorway. He smiled. “What’s so funny?”

“My friend approves of you.”

He gave her a roguish grin. “I’m charming that way.”

“And she thinks you’re hot,” she said matter-of-factly. “That goes a long way with Sam.”

He laughed, not bothering to deflect the assessment of his hotness, and crossed his arms. “And what do you think?”

She lifted her chin, jaunty. “I think I don’t like cocky guys.”

He stepped in front of her chair and braced his hands on the table behind her, caging her in. His expression held playful challenge when he leaned in her space. “Liar.”

She raised her eyebrows. “How would you know?”

“Because you didn’t wait a whole year only to waste a night with some guy who’s unsure of himself.” He put his lips next to her ear, his voice turning dark and ripe with promise. “I may be cocky, but I’m not going to fumble around. I’m not going to lie back and wait for you to take the lead. I’m going to feed you the best meal of your life. Bite by bite. Then I’m going to fuck you. And I promise, when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember the food.”

THREE

Sweet baby Jesus. Tessa had no idea what to say to Van’s illicit promise, so she didn’t even attempt to respond. But she could feel heat traveling through her like an electric current, turning on switches she didn’t even know existed. She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, but that only made it worse because she got a lungful of his spicy scent.

Van pushed off the table he’d braced his hands on and straightened. “Still want to have dinner with me?”

She lifted her gaze to him. He’d made his intentions clear, and he was giving her an out. This was her chance to go back to the safety of her apartment where there would be no handsome strangers making her feel vulnerable and off-balance, where there would be no risk of her embarrassing herself, and no dreaded walk of shame to face in the morning. But as she stared back at him, she knew she’d suffer one thing if she walked away now. Regret.

Because no man had ever caused such a visceral response in her or inspired such primal need. And she knew instinctively that he wasn’t writing checks he couldn’t sign. He was promising her the sex of her life, and she had no doubt he could provide it. And maybe it was base and wanton to simply want this man to take her over and use her for their mutual pleasure, but dammit, she couldn’t think of anything she needed more right now than to let go like that.

“I’m very hungry,” she said finally.

His eyes lit with satisfaction. “Well, far be it from me to deny you a meal.” He extended his hand. “Come on, I still owe you a little Cooking 101 lesson.”

She took his hand and let him lead her to the stove, feeling as if she’d crossed some portal she couldn’t walk back through, like if she turned around now, there’d only be mirrored glass to tap. They both knew what tonight was about now. No pretenses. But apparently, he was still going to hold to his promise of teaching her how to cook. He grabbed a bottle of olive oil and a bowl of what looked to be nuts and set them on the tiled counter. He picked up one of the nuts and lifted it to her lips. Dutifully, she opened her mouth and let him slide it in. He took his time pulling his fingers back, letting them casually brush her lips.

“These are blanched almonds,” he explained, his tone soft in the quiet night. “They won’t have much flavor yet since we haven’t toasted or salted them. But I want you to get an idea of what they taste like before. It’s an important step. Taste your ingredients and your cooking throughout the process so you can adjust seasonings as you go.”

She crunched the mostly tasteless almond and swallowed, trying to concentrate on the lesson and not the way his deep voice was seeping inside her and dialing up her internal thermostat. Focus. “Why are they blanched?”

“It provides a better surface for the seasonings and they look nicer in a bowl. We serve these on every table with the manchego.” He turned on the burner beneath a small skillet on the stove then handed her the bottle of olive oil. “We’ll need about three tablespoons of oil.”

She scanned the utensils on the counter. “I need a measuring spoon.”

He smiled. “Don’t have any of those up here, but it doesn’t have to be perfect. Cooking is a lot about feel and developing your instincts. Trusting yourself. A tablespoon is roughly one swirl around the pan. Do three of those.”

Though she was a little nervous she’d somehow manage to screw up the simplest of recipes, she followed his instructions and poured the oil into the pan. “Is that enough?”

“Yep, now wait for the oil to shimmer a little and then you can dump the almonds in. Extra virgin olive oil has a low smoke point. It can burn or catch fire quicker than other oils, so don’t use it on too high of a heat and put your ingredients in before it starts smoking.”

She felt like she was the one with the low smoke point. A few more touches and heated glances from him and she was sure she’d catch flame, too.

When the oil started to glisten and slide easily around the pan, he gave her a little nod, and she poured the almonds in. He stepped behind her, put a hand to her waist, and reached around to give the nuts a quick stir with a wooden spoon to coat them. The smell of fruity olive oil filled her nose, but all she could think about was Van pressed against her back. He was so much bigger than she was—not in the bulky way like Doug had been—but tall and lean and honed. It made her feel petite and feminine in his hold.

She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. “Now what?”

“Now we wait for them to get fragrant and golden.” He set the spoon down and turned her around in his arms, shifting the two of them away from the hot stove. “And we taste.”

He picked up the olive oil again and drizzled some on his fingers. She watched in fascination as some dripped to the ground like green-gold raindrops.

“People usually think of Italy for olive oil, but Spain produces some of the finest stuff out there. Good enough to sip like wine.” He lifted his hand to her mouth then ran slick fingers over her lips. “Or to kiss off of a beautiful woman.”

Before she had time to react, he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a slow, coaxing kiss. The fruity oil slid over their lips and mixed with the lingering flavor of sangria and something distinctly him. Her hands went to his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt. His lips were even more decadent than she’d imagined—soft and sexy and commanding. A vivid appetizer to what she suspected was going to be a very lavish meal. And it’d been so long since she’d been kissed—even longer since it’d been done with passion—that she found it hard to control her starved response. She craved more, needed it.

When he moved to pull back, she said his name like a plea.

Needing no further encouragement, he banded his arm around her waist as he kissed her again and backed her into the table without breaking their connection. Before she could lever herself upward, he lifted her onto the table and deepened the kiss. Their tongues touched and sparks seems to flare out along her nerve endings. She groaned into his mouth, overwhelmed by the all-encompassing response to such a simple act. Somehow Van had transported her back to her high-school days where everything was new and an openmouthed kiss was as erotic an experience as she could imagine.

She slid her arms around his neck and gave herself over completely, opening to him and surrendering to the moment. When he laid her back onto the table and unfastened the top button of her blouse, she was too far gone to worry about anything. She didn’t care that they were out in the open and anyone could walk in. She didn’t care that they were outdoors and only protected from the view of people on the street by a row of potted trees. And she forgot to worry whether or not she was in over her head.

Van finally broke the kiss to drag in a breath and worked a few more buttons to get her shirt fully open. His gaze traced over her simple lace bra with ravenous heat. “We’re going to burn the almonds.”

“I don’t care,” she said, slipping her shirt off.

With one swift movement, he reached over and turned off the burner, then he was back over her, holding the bottle of olive oil above her. “Take off your bra, Contessa. I need to taste you.”

She did as she was told with fumbling fingers and tossed the scrap of fabric aside. As soon as she lay back against the table, the drizzle of oil hit her skin, sliding over her nipples and down her belly. She closed her eyes and moaned softly, the sensual feel of the liquid against her conjuring images of Van taking himself in his hand and marking her skin with his release.

His hands trailed up and over her ribs, bringing oil with it, then he cupped her breasts, sliding his fingers over slippery skin and making her arch with need. He pinched her nipple between lubricated fingers. The desperate sound she made bordered on embarrassing. “Van, please.”

He let out a soft curse. “Baby, I want to take my time with you. But God, I can feel how near the edge you are already, and it’s driving me to the brink. I’ll never make it through a meal.”

“That makes two of us.”

He groaned and bent over her, taking her nipple in his mouth. The combination of the warming oil and his talented tongue had her back bowing up. Lord, she’d forgotten how lovely foreplay could be. Doug had been all about the end game, convinced that because he was well-endowed, that’d be enough for any woman. But size only went so far and getting to orgasm had always taken work on her part, a concerted effort. But right now, she felt like one stroke between her thighs and she’d go off.

His hand went to the hem of her skirt, slipping beneath it and gliding along her thigh with well-oiled fingers. She reached for him, her hands acting on their own volition, and gripped his thick hair, holding him against her breast and silently begging him to move his hand higher up her thigh.

He slipped free from her grip and lifted his head. “Just lie back, baby, and put your hands above your head. I’ll take care of you.”

She did as she was told and followed him with her eyes as he grabbed her blouse and wrapped it around her wrists. “What are you doing?”

“Exactly what I want,” he said simply, as if that were explanation enough. “I have a bit of a thing for control. You okay with that?”

A ripple of apprehension went through her. “I’m not sure. What do you mean?”

His lips curved. “Ever done anything kinky before, Contessa?”

She thought back to the time she’d bought risqué lingerie and a set of handcuffs to surprise Doug. He’d wrinkled his nose in disgust and told her to throw that crap out. “No.”

“How come?” he asked as he traced his fingers along the delicate skin of her forearms.

God, why the questions? Couldn’t they just get to it? She didn’t want to rehash those embarrassing memories.

“Because it’s for girls who try too hard,” she blurted, remembering how ridiculous Doug had made her feel as she stood there in that corset and heels. If I wanted to sleep with a cheap whore, I’d hire one, Tessa. Take that shit off.

Van came back into view, his eyes meeting hers, amusement touching his lips. “Is that right? Well, I hope I can change your mind on that one because you look very, very sexy stretched out and bound. But if you’re not on board, I’ll release your hands.”

Somehow the sincerity in his voice and the heated look on his face had her guards falling away. She found herself wanting to comply, wanting to be sexy for him. “It’s okay. I’ll try it.”

“Thank you.”

He leaned over and took her mouth in a languorous kiss, dipping his tongue deep and giving her another preview of just how skilled he was with his mouth. A moan caught in the back of her throat, and her hips lifted off the table involuntarily as need built low and fast. Lord, could she come from a kiss? Her body was begging for that to be true. It had been so long. But even though no orgasm came, by the time he pulled back, she was sure her muscles had liquefied and her bones had disintegrated.

He nipped her bottom lip. “Move your hands from this spot, and I’ll stop what I’m doing. Understand?”

She nodded quickly, ready to agree to anything if it meant he was going to touch her again. “Yes.”

The pleasure that flickered over his features at her acquiescence was its own reward. He walked back to the end of the table and gathered her skirt up her thighs, revealing her pink cotton panties—panties that were now damp and clinging. He ran the tip of his finger down her crease, rubbing the wet cotton against her most needy parts.

Oh, God.

“Look how pretty and wet you are for me already.” He outlined her clit with his fingertip using enough pressure to make her arch but not enough to send her over. “Do you need to come, baby?”

She gasped as his finger moved inside her, still covered with the fabric of her panties. The slight abrasiveness of the cotton only ratcheted up her sensitivity further. “God, yes.”

He moved his finger with gentle undulations. “It’s too bad that olive oil is bad for condoms. Otherwise, I could get you off with a few simple strokes of my hand.”

She whimpered. God, how could he tease her like this? Couldn’t he see she was about to lose it? She went to reach for him, but as soon as she moved her bound arms, he stopped the stimulation. She let out a sound of frustration. “Van, please.”

“Put your hands back where they’re supposed to be and maybe you’ll get what you want.”

The calmly uttered command almost undid her. She should’ve been rankled by his bossiness. He didn’t know her or have the right to order her to do anything. But for some reason, she found herself complying and burning even hotter.

When the backs of her hands landed on the table, Van yanked her panties down and off. “Good girl. Spread your knees for me.”

Feeling a blush work its way up her body at the vulnerability of her position, she did as she was told. Her eyes fixed on the vine-covered pergola above them and the twinkle lights, and she tried to breathe. If she didn’t calm down, she would come as soon as his mouth touched her skin and she wanted to enjoy this.

“So fucking sexy, baby,” Van said gruffly as he looked down at her. “I’ll take this as an amuse-bouche any day of the week. The food can wait.”

He locked his arms under her knees and pulled her to the end of the table, then lowered himself between her thighs. He draped her legs over his shoulders, and Tessa went liquid. That sinful mouth was against her in the next moment, and her entire body contracted with pleasure. His slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her closer, opening her with his tongue and kissing her pussy with the same single-minded focus he’d had with their kiss.

She writhed in his hold, her eyes wanting to roll back in her head at the sheer decadence of his tongue. But he wasn’t letting her wriggle away. Whether she could handle it or not, she knew he was going to get exactly what he wanted. And what he wanted was for her to fall apart. This wasn’t a tentative warm up or prelude. It was an annihilation of her control. His slick hands kneaded her ass as he feasted on her, the rough handling stimulating hot spots she hadn’t even been aware were there. The whole combination was hurtling her toward oblivion without brakes.

Her fists curled into her palms, the binding around her wrists tightening as she flexed. And a sudden shot of nerves went through her. “Van, I’m going to come. People will hear.”

Because there was no way she was going to be able to keep quiet.

In the span of two seconds, Van lifted away from her and reached for something from one of the bowls behind her. “Open and bite down.”

Her eyes widened, but she did what he said. He tucked a fat orange wedge between her lips, then was back in position like he’d never paused. His tongue glided over her center then he sucked her clit between his lips and tugged. She shattered. Her back lifted off the table and she bit down hard on the orange, the juice squirting into her mouth and dripping down the corners of her lips as she cried out. Van dug his fingers into her ass to hold her in place and his mouth dipped precariously lower, teasing a forbidden place that had never felt a man’s touch much less his tongue. Light broke behind her eyes, splintering into color, and she groaned low and deep.

Her orgasm climbed another step higher instead of relenting, and the orange fell from her mouth. She began to pant, trying to bank her noises, and her body shook with the force of a release that felt like it’d been building for months. “I can’t, I can’t …”

Van was over her before her next breath. He clamped his hand over her mouth, his eyes dark with desire. “Just let it have you, baby. I don’t give a damn who hears you. But I’ll help keep you quiet if you want me to.”

She nodded. He moved his hand away from her mouth and yanked his shirt tails from his pants, wiping the olive oil on it, then he pulled a foil packet from his back pocket. He ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth and undid his pants.

“Give me one more, beautiful. I know you have it in you.”

With that, he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside. A gasp escaped her, the feel of him stretching her an exquisite shock to her system. Her body resisted despite her slickness—the feeling almost foreign again. But the edge of discomfort was the most decadent kind of pain. She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to open herself fully. She needed all of him. Right. Now.

“Lord, baby, you’re gripping me so hard,” he groaned. “Am I hurting you?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “A good hurt.”

The wicked gleam that flared in his eyes had her thoughts emptying.

“Mmm, my favorite kind.” He rocked forward, his eyes closing as his fingers dug into her hips, and he buried himself deep. His body shuddered along with hers, the remnants of her orgasm still sending aftershocks through her. “Oh, fuck, yes. You’re so hot around me. I can feel your pussy trying to milk my cock.”

She bit her lip, the dirty talk an unfamiliar experience but not an unwelcome one. To hear such a seemingly sophisticated man talk so coarsely did something to her, made her feel like she was seeing the primal version behind the curtain. “You have a filthy mouth, Van.”

“And you fucking love it,” he said, leaning down and licking the sticky orange juice at the corner of her mouth, as he thrust into her again. “You blush, but your eyes go hot. You’re not craving polite.”

She gasped as he angled just right inside her. “I don’t know what I crave.”

“Yes, you do.” He rocked into her harder and with more speed. “You said it yourself. You want to use and be used. Come again for me, baby. Use my cock. Let me feel you break apart beneath me.”

He braced one hand next to her head and tucked the other between them, stroking her clit with every thrust of his hips. Her lids fluttered shut as the tide of sensation built to a breaking point.

“Eyes on me, gorgeous. I want you to see who’s fucking you. And I want to watch you go under.”

She forced her gaze upward, the intensity of his stare burning through her. His dark blond hair had fallen forward and the twinkle lights sparkled above him, a fierce lion with a gilded mane. Then he smiled. And she lost it. The cry that roared up her vocal cords would’ve been loud enough to be heard at the restaurant downstairs, but he levered down and kissed her, capturing the desperate sound before it escaped. She poured everything she had into that kiss as her body went molten around him.

He pressed his palm against her bound wrists, pinning her to the table and pumping into her hard enough to rattle the bowls behind her. Her orgasm rolled through her in powerful, crushing waves and he tore away from the kiss, his groan of pleasure raking over her senses as he sunk deep and spilled inside her.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, letting his forehead meet hers, his chest rising and falling with panted breaths. “So much for the slow and easy evening I had imagined. I promise I at least planned to feed you first.”

She laughed beneath him, overcome with some weird combination of euphoria and the bizarreness of the whole situation. Here she was lying naked on a restaurant table with a perfect stranger slathered in olive oil and orange juice and drifting down from the best orgasm of her life. Who was this woman?

He chuckled along with her and reached up to untie her hands. “We’re a mess.”

“But my skin is now exceptionally moisturized, and I smell amazing,” she said, grinning.

“Indeed it is.” He pressed an openmouthed kiss to her sticky neck and inhaled. “And yes, you do. Citrus and sex, let’s bottle that.”

Her stomach flipped at the words. Citrus and sex were what her kitchen had smelled like after she’d found Doug. She’d thought she’d never be able to smell orange juice again without thinking of that horrible day. But Van had rewired her associations in a few mind-blowing moments. Now she wanted to roll around in that scent. “We’ll make millions.”

“No doubt.” Van gave her another quick kiss then eased out of her. He turned to discreetly strip off the condom and zipped up before looking back in her direction. “Remind me next time to not take no for an answer on bringing you back to my place. At least there I’d have a shower and towels to offer you.”

She rolled her wrists and then pushed up on her elbows, offering him a smile, but knowing there would be no next time. That’d been their agreement, her one condition. Tonight could only be an escape. A fantasy.

She couldn’t handle any more than that.

Especially with a guy who could make her feel like this. One who could make her feel this wanted and sexy, this … special. She knew she was definitely not the latter for him. Van was way too smooth and confident—a seducer. She doubted his bed was ever cold.

He was a playboy.

He was a temptation she couldn’t afford.

FOUR

Kade Vandergriff smiled when he heard soft snores coming from his left. Oh, how quickly a shitty day had morphed into an amazing evening. When he’d headed out tonight for location visits, all his frustration from a completely useless session with his attorney about their seemingly winless case had come along with him. It probably would’ve been wise to go home afterward to let himself settle down. But he hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of pacing the halls of his big, empty house for the night. The silence and space would’ve made him crazy.

So he’d driven into Dallas to visit his restaurants, hoping to channel all the crap from the day into a productive evening. But after only a few hours into his drop-in visits, his frustration hadn’t gone away but had instead morphed into nebulous, growing anger. By the time he’d arrived at Barcelona and discovered three of their most popular dishes had been eighty-sixed because of the manager’s oversight, Kade had been on the verge of a Gordon Ramsay moment.

But then Contessa had walked into the restaurant, chatting with her friend and looking like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Kade had stopped midsentence in his lecture to his manager and had forgotten why he was so damn pissed. He’d left his manager without another word and followed Contessa into the dating event, having no idea why he felt so compelled to follow her or what he was going to do once he got to her. But when her name hadn’t been on the list, he’d jumped at the opportunity to step in. A few minutes into their time upstairs, she’d made him forget every crappy thing that had happened that day. He’d gotten lost in the moment, lost in her.

He glanced over at his dozing companion. Contessa had curled up on one of the sofas in the bar to wait while he picked up the last of the food and dishes they’d used on their rooftop “un-date,” but exhaustion had apparently gotten the better of her. Or maybe it was the six-course meal, the three glasses of sangria, and the two bouts of amazing sex. Even he was feeling weary on his feet, and staying up until three A.M. was not a rare occurrence with his schedule.

Not for the first time, he wished they were back at his place where he could strip her down and tuck her into his bed for the night. Wake her up with his tongue between her thighs because damn the woman was sexy when she came. It was like each time it happened, she was surprised, like she didn’t think herself capable of that passionate of a response. And for some reason, she thought she wouldn’t like kink yet had responded to his commands with beautiful capitulation. Which, of course, only made him want to find out just how out of her mind he could drive her. They’d only scratched the surface tonight.

But he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get another chance. She’d laid it all out up front, refreshing but brutal in her honesty. She’d wanted an escape tonight. She’d wanted to use him for that, and he’d been happy to oblige. Hell, the one-night fantasy had become his specialty lately. Not that he was complaining. He’d enjoyed playing the third in a few scenes with his friends’ submissives at The Ranch, the private BDSM resort he belonged to. And he’d had his fair share of casual encounters over the past few years with kinky women, as well as vanilla ones. Fun nights. Exciting flings. Wild adventures.

But in the end, the result was always the same. After the initial rush, he lost interest. Since his divorce, even women who’d been open to considering moving the relationship to a more intense level—the level he desperately craved—he couldn’t seem to muster up the desire. Too often, it felt like those women were simply agreeing to his flavor of kink because of all the fringe benefits. He’d been down that road. Nothing like finding out the girlfriend you’re tying up and flogging actually hates pain and all things kink and is only taking it because she wants you to buy her that Coach purse or bring her on that trip to Maui.

But even the women who hadn’t been motivated for the wrong reasons had lost his interest in a month or two. The lifestyles reporter at the local paper had taken to calling him the Time Share Bachelor because his relationships had ended on such a predictable schedule. He never strayed, but he never stayed either. Sometimes he wondered if his divorce had rewired him to only be capable of the temporary. So perhaps it was best for all involved that Contessa walked away from him tonight. Clean. Easy. No attachments or regrets. Everyone could look golden in a one-night stand. A flawless fantasy night for both their memory banks.

Kade sighed as he carried an armful of bowls into the kitchen to rinse them out, unable to shake his desire for more time with Contessa despite his perfectly valid internal arguments. They’d spent hours together. He’d taken her twice. It should be enough. Plus, she was vanilla for God’s sake. This wasn’t like meeting some girl at The Ranch where he could imagine all the dirty things they could try out and mutually enjoy. Contessa, despite her little glimmers of bravado, had a shyness about her, like she was almost awkward about sex. When he’d pinned her hands above her head, her eyes had gone as wide as a virgin’s on prom night. She may’ve been married, but clearly her husband hadn’t given her any more than the basics.

A damn tragedy, that. Because the kind of eager responsiveness she’d shown upstairs proved the woman was built for pleasure, starved for it. And everything in his body was giving a battle cry to be the man to feed her. But there was no way in hell he was going to chase her for the chance. He didn’t chase. Period. He’d spent too many years when he was a kid doing that crap, and it only got you humiliated. Chasing. Pining. Fantasizing about girls he couldn’t have. Only to be turned down so she could go be with the jerk who treated her like shit.

Never again. He’d learned. Girls who wanted to be chased, wanted to be in control of you. And control is one thing he’d never relinquish again.

“Need any help?”

Kade looked up from dumping the last of the food into the trash bin, finding Contessa wearing a sleepy-eyed half smile. He shook his head, his whirling thoughts calming at the sight of her. “Nah, it’s been a while since I’ve been on clean-up duty in a kitchen, but I haven’t forgotten how to do it.”

“So are you a chef?” she asked.

He smiled, amused that she hadn’t bothered to ask his position up until this point. It was a nice change of pace. Most women knew his whole resume before ever saying word one to him. “I went to culinary school, so technically, yes, I could be a chef. But that isn’t my current position. I own this place.”

And many, many others. But he didn’t need to volunteer that at this point. He kind of liked her not knowing the whole restaurant mogul aspect of his career. No matter what, it changed how people interacted with him once they knew.

“Wow, impressive,” she said, though she sounded more wary than impressed. “So you were totally cheating when you said you wouldn’t have to pay for anything. Technically, you’re paying for everything, down to the electricity keeping this light on.”

He grinned. “Are you going to convict me on a technicality?”

“Totally.”

He sighed. “Tough jury. Well, I have handcuffs in the car. Let me finish cleaning up and then you can take me in.”

She laughed. “Somehow I don’t think you’re kidding about having handcuffs.”

He sent her a sly grin but went back to rinsing off the last of the dishes. Actually, he didn’t have any in the car, but at home … At home he had enough restraints to bind her in a hundred ways and never repeat a method. “A gentleman never reveals his secrets.”

She went quiet for a while after that, and he began to regret the off-the-cuff comment. The girl had just gotten out of a marriage where her husband was keeping the biggest secret of all, and here he was joking about secrets.

He wiped his hands on a towel and turned to her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean, with your husband—”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head, cutting off his apology. “You’re fine. Truly, I wasn’t even thinking about the situation with my ex. Just about our agreement for total honesty.”

Total honesty. Like not even giving her his real first name or the scope of his job. He was doing stellar on that all around. But she was looking so pensive that he couldn’t help but walk over to her. He put his hands on her arms, rubbing the chill bumps there. “What’s on your mind?”

Her gaze slid to the right and down as if there was something eminently more interesting on the floor. “I’m trying to fight the urge to ask you a supremely embarrassing question, but one that I need an honest answer to.”

Uh-oh. That sounded like a no-win trap if ever there was one. But what was he supposed to say to that? “Well, since you’ve already declared that we’re not going to see each other after tonight, I’d say you probably have nothing to lose by asking.”

She took a deep breath, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip, and her gaze still locked on anything but him. “When I caught my husband cheating. He told me it was partly my fault, which I know is bullshit.”

“Total bullshit,” Kade agreed.

“But he said I was boring in bed,” she rushed on. “And I can’t help but wonder if maybe—”

“That fucker.”

Her attention snapped upward, surprise in her eyes.

He cupped her face in his hands. “Baby, I don’t know much about you. I don’t know your last name or what you do for a living. I don’t know if you take cream in your coffee or if you prefer tea. But I can tell you one thing for sure. There is nothing boring about you. Tonight was amazing. You were amazing. And if that idiot ex-husband of yours didn’t know what to do with a gorgeous woman and all that passion you have brewing right beneath the surface, then that’s on him.”

All the tension sagged out of her, and she closed her eyes, nodding in his hands. “Thank you.”

The soft response and her obvious relief nearly undid him. What kind of asshole made a vibrant woman like this doubt herself? He half wished her ex was here right now. Kade would let the guy watch as Kade took Contessa right in front of him, let him watch how glorious she was when given pleasure by a man who knew what he was doing.

“Don’t give his words another thought,” he said, kissing her forehead and wishing he could swipe the memory from her mind with the gesture.

“I know I shouldn’t, but it’s hard not to let doubt creep in. When you approached me tonight, I almost chickened out because I thought I might embarrass myself. I’m not that experienced. I married him so young and—”

“Contessa,” he said, frustration edging his words. “Stop.”

She blinked up at him, apparently taken aback at his change in tone.

He lowered his hands from her face, fighting the sudden urge to turn her over his knee and spank her for even giving that jerk another second of thought. “Stop doubting yourself. Inexperience does not mean boring. Boring is a woman who isn’t present with you in the moment. Boring is a woman who lies there and doesn’t participate or who isn’t open to trying new things. Boring is an attitude, not a lack of skill or experience. If you’ve got the desire, the rest can be learned. Taught.”

All it took was a good teacher and a willing student. And right now, he was feeling quite professorial.

“You think?” she said, looking unconvinced.

“Baby, nothing is sexier than a woman who wants to learn.” He moved forward, backing her into the wall, loving the little gasp she made when his burgeoning erection pressed against her. “In fact, it’s my biggest turn-on, showing a woman exactly what to do to please me.”

She wet her lips, her nerves visible right there at the surface. “Sounds like kind of a selfish way of looking at it. How to please you.”

He chuckled and slid his hand down along her hip. “Yes, but pleasing me reaps so many rewards. I always repay with interest.”

When he snuck his hand beneath her skirt and upward, she tilted her head back against the wall and groaned. “What would you teach me?”

He smiled with promise. She’d left her panties off since they’d been ruined earlier, and his fingers easily found what they were seeking. “The list is long, baby. It’d definitely take more than one night. I’m a kinky fucker.”

“Van,” she gasped, as he curled his fingers inside her, sliding deep into the slick heat.

“Want to be my student?” He pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles. “I promise lots of one-on-one attention.”

“Oh, God.” She rocked against his hand almost as if she was trying to resist the urge but couldn’t stop the movement. Her voice went breathy. “I can’t—I can’t get involved. With anyone.”

The words sounded like a plea instead of a statement. She was so close to the edge already, even after her orgasms from earlier. God, he loved how hot she ran. Her arousal coated his hand, her sweet scent filling the sterile kitchen. “I’m not asking you to date me, baby. I’m not good at that anyway. I’m offering to show you what you’re capable of, to teach you what you want to learn. To have fun.”

Her fingers twisted in his hair as she rocketed toward release with her eyes squeezed shut and her head lolling from side to side against the wall. “Van!”

“Come for me,” he said, his voice going gritty with his own need to see her explode again. “Fuck my hand and take what you know I can give you.”

Her shout was sharp and desperate as she shattered in orgasm, the sound winding through the kitchen and empty restaurant. She called his name in a pleading prayer and melted against the wall like butter on hot cast iron.

He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing deeply with his own desire pounding through his veins. God, she was something to behold when she let go. No fucking way was he going to let her get away with only tonight. He needed more of this.

More of her.

When her writhing had turned to gentle swaying, he slipped his hand from beneath her skirt and brought his fingers to his mouth. Her eyes fluttered open in time to see him savor her taste and suck his fingers clean. Her lips parted slightly, and her barely concealed shock made him want her even more. Innocence and passion—her mix of it was a potent drug to his system.

“Kiss me,” he said, a gentle command and challenge.

After only the briefest hesitation, she closed the distance between them and brought her mouth to his. He took her lips in a languid kiss, knowing she’d be able to taste her tart flavor on his tongue. He would convince her right here and now with actions and not words that she shouldn’t walk away yet, that she needed to explore this as much as he did. He would make her crave more. But right as he was deepening the kiss and pulling her against him, an acrid scent tickled his nose. He dismissed it for a moment, too wrapped up in the feel of Contessa in his arms, but soon the smell was too strong to ignore. He pulled back, alarm bells starting to ding through the growing fog of desire in his head.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Do you smell that?” He let her go and peered over his shoulder toward the kitchen.

She sniffed. “Smells burnt.”

He shook his head. That wasn’t a burnt smell. It was a burning smell. He strode toward the appliances, checking to see if an oven or stove had been left on or if a greasy towel had been left somewhere and ignited. But nothing seemed amiss. His staff was well-trained to check and double check everything for safety before closing up each night. But the smell was growing stronger.

“Van!”

He turned. Contessa pointed at the door that led out to the side hallway and exit. Dark black smoke was creeping beneath. Dread rushed through him. He closed the distance between the two of them in three long strides, grabbing her purse from the countertop and shoving it at her. “We need to get out of here. Now!”

She let him hustle her toward the door that led to the dining room, but when they swung the door open, a rush of hot, acrid smoke blew right in their faces. His eyes and throat burned with it, and Contessa started coughing beside him. “Van.”

“Get down low,” he barked, keeping a hold of her elbow. Heat shimmered in the air as they crouched down and heard the first roar of flame and crack of wood. The sound seemed to be coming from the main dining area, though it was impossible to see anything in the smoke. “Stay with me. Don’t let go. I’m going to get us to a back exit.”

Contessa was coughing hard now, unable to respond. Shit. He needed to get them out fast before she took in too much smoke. And why the fuck weren’t the sprinklers going off? Luckily, he knew the layout of this restaurant better than his own house. It was one he’d designed himself. It’d been his first baby, the one he loved the most. And now it was burning. Crawling on their hands and knees, he led Contessa through the banquet room and to an emergency exit. He hopped to his feet and shoved the door open with his hip, a wave of cool night air swooping in as he dragged her outside and into the back alley.

“Baby, talk to me,” he demanded, his heart hammering in his chest.

She’d stopped coughing and had gone heavy in his arms. He hauled her up and off her feet and carried her away from the building. Sirens wailed in the background as he laid her out on the grass in front of the flower shop across the street. Her cheeks were black with soot and her eyes were shut, but he could see her chest still rising and falling.

“Contessa, come on, baby, take a few deep breaths for me.” He tugged off his shirt and ran to a water fountain to soak the fabric. Then he hurried back to her side, his lungs still burning, and wiped the soot away from her face with the cool cloth. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re scaring me.”

She coughed, a loud hacking sound, but it was one of the sweetest Kade had ever heard.

He rolled her onto her side. “That’s it. Get that shit out.”

A fire truck sped to a halt in the street and men poured out, two heading Kade’s way and the rest going for the building. The young firefighter hustled over and knelt next to Contessa, while the other flagged down an EMS crew that pulled up behind the fire truck.

“Ma’am, we’re here to help you,” the first one said, as he started checking her over.

“She took in too much smoke,” Kade said in a rush. “We got out quickly, but there was so much smoke so fast.”

“Was there anyone else in the building?”

“No.”

The EMTs were already hurrying over with equipment and oxygen. She was going to be all right. Help was here.

Kade sank back onto the grass, relief enveloping him. Thank God.

In the background, flames licked up the side of his restaurant, engulfing and devouring his favorite location. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. Contessa was going to be okay. The restaurant was just wood and metal and could be replaced.

“Sir, do you know this woman?” the EMT asked. “Or if she has any medical conditions or allergies I should be aware of before we take her in?”

Contessa tried to speak but she started coughing again and they put an oxygen mask over her face. She pointed to her purse. Kade grabbed for it and pulled out her wallet to dig for information. He found a medical card. “She’s allergic to penicillin and codeine.”

“And what’s her name?” the EMT asked, not even looking at Kade.

“It’s Con—” But he stopped himself when his eyes landed on the name listed on the card, his throat trying to close. “It’s Tessa McAllen.”

“Thank you.”

But Kade didn’t even hear him. Or notice another medic who came over to check and see if he needed any help. All Kade could hear were his own words repeating in his head. It’s Tessa McAllen.

Tessa McAllen.

Tess …

Everything inside him knotted—longing mixed up with a paradoxical dose of pure bitterness. For a moment, he was transported back years to a version of himself he’d tried to forget existed, to a night he’d tried to obliterate from his psyche.

“Sir, you can ride with us to the hospital or follow us there if you feel okay to drive.”

“I c-c-can drive.” What the hell? He nearly slapped his hand over his mouth, the stuttered word like the sound of breaking glass to his ears. He hadn’t flubbed a word in over a decade. He rolled his shoulders, shaking off the reappearance of the old tic.

The medic adjusted the oxygen mask on Tessa’s face. “Looks like she’s going to be fine since you both got out so quickly. But we want to get her checked out and run a few tests to be sure.”

Kade nodded absently as he stared down at Tessa. Her hair was blonde now and she was curvier, softer in the best possible way. But, of course, all those years would’ve changed things. Nothing about him resembled the boy she’d known back then either, not even his name.

She was still as beautiful as he remembered, though. And based on some of the things she’d said tonight, probably just as unattainable.

The only difference was maybe this time he could actually do something about it if he wanted to. The question was—did he want to? Last time he’d taken a risk on Tessa McAllen, his life had blown up and disintegrated around him. He didn’t need that kind of drama in his life again or a regular reminder of what he most hoped to forget.

But as he watched Tessa get loaded into the back of the ambulance, he knew there was no way he could step back and let her walk out of his life a second time. She’d said that she only wanted tonight. She’d said this was a one-time thing.

Kaden Fowler would’ve turned and gone home. That boy had been used to hearing no.

But Kade Vandergriff didn’t even know what the word sounded like.

FIVE
1996

Kaden Fowler sat in a shaded spot with his back against the grimy brick wall of Henley High’s recreation building, hoping to blend into it. The rest of the junior and senior class were either still inside the cafeteria eating or were gathered in small groups around the main yard, claiming their piece of concrete or grass and trying to impress each other.

Kaden never did either here—try to impress or eat. After one too many fatass and oink-oink comments in junior high, he’d learned to fill up at breakfast and then wait until dinner to eat again. Even after he’d shot up six inches over the last year and was more bulk than chub now, the jerkoffs who’d teased him then wouldn’t fail to remind him of his former fat-kid status. Once branded as such, it never went away. And if they didn’t pick on that, they’d go after his other obvious weakness—his stutter.

He pulled the latest Stephen King novel and his Walkman out of his backpack, putting the headphones over his ears, and turned to the place he’d marked in the book. But before the guitars could even kick in on Metallica’s “Until It Sleeps,” a lilting laugh cut through the music and carried his gaze up and across the yard. The minute his eyes landed on her, his stomach tightened into a fist of familiar longing.

Tessa McAllen twirled around, showing off some cheerleading move to her gaggle of friends. Her light brown hair fanned out around her, and the little spin made her skirt flit up a bit, revealing a golden swath of upper thigh and the edge of what looked to be pink panties.

Pink panties. Fuck. Me.

Kaden grimaced and shifted his weight, willing his body not to respond to the sight. And putting extra effort into forcing his mind not to draw in the rest of the picture of what was beneath her skirt. God, he’d imagined that so many times it probably qualified as some diagnosable mental illness. And if he let his thoughts go there now, he may as well drop out of school and go on the lamb. Because sporting a boner in the fucking schoolyard would be an unredeemable humiliation to come back from.

After she finished her demonstration, her boyfriend, Doug, slid his arm around her and gave her a discreet pat on the ass. Kaden wanted to break every bone in that fucker’s hand. It’d take care of two things at once—without that hand Doug couldn’t touch Tessa like that and he wouldn’t be able to throw a damn football again until the season was over. His daddy’s money couldn’t buy that back for him. Boo-hoo. The king would be ousted.

The morbid thought made Kaden smile.

“Hey, what the fuck are you grinning at, asshole?”

Doug’s loudmouth best friend, Quincy, had been hanging in the group with Tessa. But now the guy’s focus was solidly on him. Kaden barely resisted flipping the dude off and looked back down at his book, pretending the music was too loud for him to hear.

But, of course, the idiot couldn’t let it go. He ambled over, the group trailing behind him like a pack of dogs following a scent—in this case, the scent of potential drama and humiliation, the most enticing of all here at school.

Quincy peered down at Kaden, his bug eyes making him look like a pissed off pug. He kicked the front of Kaden’s Doc Martens. “Hey, I’m talking to you, K-K-Kaden.”

A few of them laughed at the old joke. Tessa didn’t. She had this cute little frown line between her brows that he wished he could reach over and smooth with his thumb. He didn’t think that’d be appreciated though. So instead, he shoved his book in his bag and stood, not saying a word. He’d worked hard to beat his childhood stutter, but when he was nervous, it came back like a fucking horror movie villain who wouldn’t die. So he’d learned to keep his mouth shut when at all possible.

Not that he was nervous about shit-for-brains Quincy, but Tessa … Well, he’d probably forget how to speak the English language if he tried to say anything to her. Once he was up on his feet, he was looking down at Quincy. God bless that unexpected six inches of height. At least something had gone right this year.

“So what’s the smile for, big boy?” Quincy asked, dialing up the menace in his voice, but backing up an inch. “You wouldn’t be looking at Douggie’s pretty girlfriend would you?”

Heat rushed upward, and Kaden prayed it wouldn’t make it to his face. “N-n-no.”

Fuck! Why did his body have to rebel on him at the worst goddamned moments? Blushing and stuttering. He should just hand over his balls now.

“N-n-no?” Quincy teased.

“We all see how you look at her,” Doug said, stepping next to Quincy.

“Guys, stop it, okay?” Tessa said, her gaze darting away from Kaden’s. “Leave him alone. The bell’s about to ring.”

“No, babe,” Doug said with that smarmy, I’m-better-than-you tone that seemed to be his default. “I need to look out for you. I don’t want some freak staring you down and thinking God knows what. You see the kind of books he’s always carrying, how he dresses. Sick fuck.”

Her jaw clenched. “He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

That was a lie. He did. But he wasn’t thinking sick thoughts. Well … depended on one’s definition of sick he supposed. “Why would y-you care if I look at her? Threatened?”

Quincy snorted, and Doug gave Kaden a curled-lip once-over. “By a fucking fag with long hair and thrift store clothes? Hardly.”

Kaden smirked. “Well, if I’m a f-f-fag, then you have nothing to worry about. And maybe I’m l-l-looking at her because I feel bad for her. She has to deal with your sorry ass.”

With that, Kaden shoved past Quincy and made his way through the group. If they were smart, they’d let him go. Because he worked hard to stay out of trouble. Dealing with his stepdad any time he stepped out of line was more trouble than it was worth. But if those pricks laid their hands on him, he’d fight back. And though he probably wouldn’t win since he didn’t push weights every afternoon like those guys, he was feeling mean enough to fight dirty and inflict some damage before they took him down. Part of him hoped they’d try.

He walked to the main doors without looking back. No one came after him.

Maybe those douchebags had a few brain cells left after all.

Tessa looked toward the far end of the library then back down to the note Mrs. Rombach had given her after Tessa had earned her third D in English. “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me.”

“Can I help you find something, Tessa?”

Tessa turned to find the librarian, Ms. Solis, sending her a pleasant smile from behind her fortress of a desk. “Um, Mrs. Rombach wants me to sign up for tutoring in English.”

The woman’s smile turned a tad sympathetic—oh my, the poor cheerleader who got the looks but not the brains. That’s what she was probably thinking. Tessa had seen that look before. She wanted to correct her, wanted to tell the librarian that she had As in math. But all this poetry and Shakespeare crap just didn’t make sense. How was she supposed to understand stories in a language that didn’t even resemble her version of English?

“She’s matched you up with Kaden Fowler, dear,” Ms. Solis said, pointing toward the tutoring room in the back of the library. The walls of the room were clear glass and soundproof, so there was no mistaking the shaggy blond head bent over a book. “And don’t worry. I know he’s a little quiet, but that Kaden is sharp as a tack. Goes through at least three books on his own a week.”

Tessa forced her face to form some version of a smile. “Is there someone else available? I mean, not that I doubt Kaden’s skills or whatever, but I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“I’m sure that’s not the case,” she said, a little glint in her dark eyes. “Just give it a chance. If you feel he’s not the right tutor for you, you can talk to Mrs. Rombach.”

Well, crap. Mrs. Rombach was not her biggest fan. She had a feeling the woman had some sort of vendetta against the cheer squad and would simply fail her if she complained about which tutor she’d been assigned. Plus, if word got back to her foster parents that she was making waves, everything could go to hell. The Ds were going to be hard enough to explain.

With a heavy sigh, Tessa hefted her schoolbag higher on her shoulder and headed toward the back, determined not to make this a big deal. She tapped on the door before swinging it open, and Kaden lifted his head. The oh-shit expression on his face probably mirrored the one she’d worn when she’d walked into the library a few minutes ago.

“Uh, c-c-can I help you with something?”

She winced inwardly at his slight stutter, remembering how horrible Doug and Quincy had teased him a few days ago at lunch. Kaden hadn’t helped his situation, though, when he’d insulted Doug in front of the group. Her boyfriend was mostly harmless. Quincy usually was the one who got Doug pulled into stupid crap. But Doug wasn’t going to let someone like Kaden call him sorry and let it go. And he’d certainly shit a biscuit if he knew she was spending time with the enemy.

Which is why she needed to come up with a plan. Fast.

“Okay, so, yeah, I need your help.” She set her bag on the table and glanced over her shoulder. Doug would be at football practice by now, but that didn’t mean one of their other friends wouldn’t wander into the library for something. A lot of the after-school clubs met in here.

“With?” Kaden prompted.

She pulled out her latest essay test and flattened it on the table. “I’m failing English, and you’re my new tutor.”

“Y-y-you’re the girl who needs help in English?” He scraped a hand through his too-long hair, cursing under his breath.

“Yes. Me. And look, I know you don’t like me. And I’m really sorry for the other day. Those guys can be jerks sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“It’s mostly Quincy,” she said, peeking over her shoulder again.

“Sure it is.” He nodded toward the glass partition with a smirk. “What are you looking for? Afraid someone will see you in here with the s-s-sick fuck?”

She gave a dramatic sigh and sank into a chair. This was not going at all how she’d planned. She hoped she could smile and sweetness her way through this. She wasn’t unaware of the effect she had on guys. God hadn’t given her much. Useless mother. Dead father. A crapton of foster homes. And not enough skills to know what the hell Hamlet was about. But he had given her a way with boys.

Unfortunately, this boy seemed immune, so she was going to have to give it to him straight.

“Listen, Kaden. Hate me all you want, but they pay you to tutor and right now, I’m the girl who needs help. But I don’t want to cause crap for either of us.”

“Meaning?” he asked, sounding bored.

“Meaning if Doug or any of my friends sees us together, he’s going to make your life hell. And I’m going to get an earful of shit.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked, the simple look making her feel self-conscious.

“N-n-nothing. Just never heard you swear before.”

She winced. Truth was, she’d developed a potty mouth at her last home placement. Her foster sister, Sam, had been quite colorful in her speech. But Tessa had learned to curb it when she moved in with the Ericsons. Her foster parents were super strict and would kick her out if they had any clue how much of a delinquent she was capable of being. And there was no way she was giving them up. They’d been the closest to having a real family as she’d ever had.

“So do we need to do this here?” she asked, ignoring his comment and tightening her ponytail.

“The tutoring? No. I just have to sign off that you showed up and for how long.”

“Great. Do you have somewhere else we could go?”

“You mean, where we can hide?”

She huffed. “Come on, Kaden. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but you know how it is.”

His shoulders sagged like he’d had a sack of sand thrown across them, but he nodded and tucked his books in his bag. “It’s a small t-t-town, Tessa. Where are we gonna go?”

She chewed her thumbnail and peered over her shoulder again. They definitely couldn’t go to the coffee shop or the park, even the McDonald’s had other kids hanging there all the time. And her place was not an option. Boys couldn’t come over when her parents weren’t home, period, no matter what the purpose. “What about your house?”

He paused in loading up his backpack and looked at her like she’d suggested he get them a rocket to the moon. “You want to come to my house? Your boyfriend would gather a lynch mob if he found out we were hanging out alone like that.”

She shrugged. “He’d be pissed. But it’s not like he’d get the wrong idea, I mean …”

The slight wince he gave was almost imperceptible but she felt like shit the minute she realized how it’d sounded. Like he was no threat. Like she was so far out of his league that there was no possible way anyone would worry about them alone together.

“Kaden, I didn’t mean that—”

He looped his backpack over his shoulder as he stretched out to his full, impressive height. The smirk was in place again but there was a sad note in his blue eyes. “Save your apology. You don’t need to play that nicey-nice, everybody-needs-to-like-me game with me. I know who we both are. And I know where we stand. Let’s go.”

The comment was like a swift slap right across her cheek, knocking off the bright face she put out in the world. In just a few brief minutes, Kaden Fowler had called bullshit on her. She hurried after him as he made his way out the side door and into the parking lot. She did a quick scan to make sure no one was around. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t need people to like me. They just do.”

He sniffed and dug his keys out of his ripped up jeans.

“Okay, so maybe you don’t.”

“And that b-b-bothers the shit out of you.”

She quickened her step, trying to keep up with his long, easy strides. “It does not.”

But it totally did. It was suddenly driving her crazy. Why didn’t he like her? She’d never personally done anything mean to him. She couldn’t be held responsible for Doug and his friends.

Kaden stopped next to a beat-up Dodge Challenger and turned to her. “I live over on Dunlop Road. You can follow me. At a reasonable distance, of course, so no one links us t-t-together.”

She gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

She turned on her heel to stalk to her car, but he called her name before she could take a step. She looked back to find him leaning against the top of his car, staring out toward the football field instead of turning in her direction.

“It’s totally bothering you, isn’t it?”

She groaned. “Shut up. Point taken.”

He smiled but there was no humor in it. He opened his door to climb into his car, but before he closed it, his eyes met hers. “Don’t worry, princess. Your record is still perfect. My problem isn’t that I don’t like you. It’s that I like you too much.”

And with that, he slammed his door and shut her out.

SIX

Tessa cupped her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone, hoping no one in the office would hear her conversation. “Doug, I better have read this email wrong.”

Her ex-husband made a dismissive grunt. “Having trouble reading now? Maybe I should’ve used smaller words.”

Fucking bastard. Tessa gripped her phone, trying to keep her seething response from slipping out. Last thing she needed was for her current boss to send a complaint to the temp agency for an unhinged receptionist yelling at her ex-husband in front of the whole office. “Look, I get that we hate each other. Whatever. But are you really so heartless that you’ll let innocent kids suffer just to get back at me?”

He sniffed. “Always so dramatic. This is merely a business decision and nothing else. That charity was your pet project, not mine, and it’s a cash sieve.”

“It’s called nonprofit for a reason, Doug.” Jackass.

“If it’s such a worthy cause, you should be able to find other donors. I’m done keeping it afloat with my church’s money. I told the congregation to pick a new charity to focus on this year.”

“Doug, please, don’t do this.” She hated the plea in her voice, but all she could think about were the kids at Bluebonnet Place who would lose services and the employees who’d lose their jobs. She’d started the project five years ago when Doug had told her she should get more involved in his church’s outreach activities to look good to the congregation. She’d had no desire to put on more of a show at church than she already did, so she’d asked for seed money to start a charity instead. Looking back over her years with Doug, it was the one thing she could be proud of. Even though it was her ex’s money that had funded it, she’d poured her guts into the project, determined to help foster kids who were aging out of the system. She was all too familiar with how it felt to be staring down eighteen with no family behind you, few job skills, and limited funds to better your education.

But now the whole thing was going to be drained dry and abandoned if the cash wasn’t there to support it. After the divorce, she’d given the lion’s share of her divorce settlement money to Bluebonnet. God knows she’d had no desire to live off Doug’s handouts for another second and wanted to put them to good use. But even with that donation, she knew the charity only had enough cash to make it to the end of the year.

“Tessa, if you had thought this through better, you wouldn’t have left me in the first place and wouldn’t have to worry about this, so don’t try to lay some guilt trip on me. This is your doing. Your decision.”

She ran a hand through her hair, gripping a few strands tight against her scalp, trying to keep her composure while her mind was screaming, You self-centered piece of shit. You cheated! You! I didn’t do this.

“Doug, you know I’m not going to be able to get this much money in time to keep it going. Can’t you wait to pull funding in six months? We can make a big to-do of how you’re contributing despite our differences and give you all the credit. The press will love it.” She loathed her supplicating tone but knew that’s what got him off—beating her down and winning.

He snorted. “The press? You mean the same press you spilled lies to after the divorce? You know how much of my congregation I’ve lost because of the shit you spread about me? I’m still repairing that damage.”

“I only told them the truth. I can’t help how they relayed it. And I had to do something after you put rumors out there that I was some pill-popping tramp who strayed on you.”

“Right. Because you were an angel. Gabriel was just lying about you meeting him mornings in the guest house. I should’ve known then and let you have someone on the side to degrade yourself with. You always did like to slum it.”

Her nails dug into her palm. That story again. She knew damn well Doug had either paid her former personal trainer money or blackmailed him to go to the press and fabricate some story about her. It had to have been something big because before that, Gabriel had been a friend to her, keeping her company and making her laugh during those often lonely days. The guy was probably going to graduate school on a full ride now, courtesy of her ex-husband.

“Good-bye, Doug.”

“Hold on,” he said, right as she was about to pull the phone from her ear. “I do have one way I may consider giving you the funds you need.”

Her gut knotted at his tone, but she forced herself to stay on the phone. She knew whatever he was going to propose would be something she didn’t like, but she was willing to do a lot to keep those kids at Bluebonnet from losing funding. “And what’s that?”

She could almost feel his viper grin over the phone. “I would need you to beg, darling. Get on those pretty knees and tell me how you can’t get through without me. That I was right. Then, you’d need to go to the press, admit to your affair with Gabriel and your emotional problems, and tell them that I was a good husband who took care of you.”

Her lunch almost came up at the image, the bitter taste burning the back of her throat. “Fuck you.”

He laughed. “I’ll take that as you considering the option. Try it your way first if you’d like. I’m sure raising a few hundred grand on your own between those dead-end jobs you’re doing will be easy as pie. You know where to find me when that flops.”

The dial tone buzzed in her ear—harsh and final. Round three thousand and four to the snake. It seemed like every time she went to battle with Doug, he ended up with the last word and the smile. She hung up the phone and rubbed a hand over her face, all the starch draining out of her.

“Everything okay, Vanessa?”

She looked up. It was on the tip of her tongue to correct the guy on her name, but frankly, she didn’t remember his either. She’d gone on so many assignments for the temp agency in the past few months that they were all starting to blend together. “I’m fine. What can I help you with?”

He dropped a small voice recorder on her desk. “I’ve dictated a report that I’d like you to type up for me. I’ll need it before I leave today.”

“Sure. I’ll get right to it,” she said with practiced enthusiasm even though she’d never typed from dictation before.

After a quick nod, he strode off and she tucked the earbuds into her ears without hitting Play. The office hummed around her as she sat there at her borrowed desk, watching people moving back and forth with their tasks, chatting with co-workers and catching up from the weekend. No one had asked her how her weekend had been. No one cared. She was a stranger. No one knew that she’d had the best sex of her life on Friday night and had passed out from a fire. No one knew that she’d slipped out of the hospital before Van could get there because she couldn’t trust herself to turn him down. No one knew that her ex-husband had just ripped one final rug out from under her. And no one knew that the fate of an entire charity and at least a hundred kids was now resting on her very unqualified shoulders.

She was simply the temp filling in for a beloved co-worker who was on maternity leave.

Part of her relished the anonymity of it. She’d hated the spotlight she’d been under in her marriage as the TV pastor’s wife. But sometimes she couldn’t help feeling the loneliness of it now. Besides Sam, she had no one here. No roots. No friends. Not even co-workers she could get to know. She’d hoped to find a more permanent job by now, but the market was tough for entry-level positions and though she was taking night classes, she didn’t have the fancy experience to put on a resume yet.

Hell, maybe she should’ve just stayed with Doug. They could’ve lived their separate lives in the same house and pretended to still be together in public. She’d known couples who’d done that. She could’ve put all her effort into charity work and not had to worry about if she’d have enough money for the gas bill or if that noise outside at night was some criminal in her not-so-desirable neighborhood trying to break in.

But then she’d have to look at Doug’s smug face every day. I told you so. I told you that you couldn’t survive on your own.

Screw that. She shook her head, disgusted that’d she’d even entertained the thought. Another day in that house with Doug and she’d probably be sitting in a jail for attempted murder. Her life now may not be posh or flashy, but at least she could wake up every day knowing that everything she had was hers and hers alone. No one was paying her way. No one owned her.

She’d figure out some way to help her charity. Even if it meant she’d have to go door-to-door to ask for donations. She would not fail those kids. And she’d be damned if she’d give her ex-husband the satisfaction of seeing her beg.

With renewed resolve, she turned toward her computer, hit the Play button on the voice recorder, and started typing.

“You know, I’m not some crazed stalker,” Kade said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks and trying to look as harmless as possible.

Sam, the raven-haired girl he’d given Tessa’s keys to on Friday night leaned against the doorway and arched her pierced brow. “Which is exactly what a crazed stalker would say.”

He smirked. “Good point. Can you at least tell me how I can get in touch with Tessa?”

“How did you even find me, stalker guy?” she asked, a glint in her eyes.

He could tell she was enjoying torturing him and not truly threatened by his unexpected visit. Somehow he doubted this girl was afraid of much. She was cute as a pixie but he sensed she was all scrappy badass beneath that sweet smile. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Your name and address were on the event list.”

“You stole private documents? Now you’re admitting to your criminal behavior. That is the first step to recovery.”

Damn, maybe this girl was a dominatrix on the side because she wasn’t giving him an inch. “Look, Sam, I know you’re going to be loyal and protective of your friend. I respect that. But after the fire, they took Tessa to the hospital, and I got held up by the police. By the time I got there, she was gone. I’d like to make sure that she’s okay. And when the fire broke out, we were in the middle of a conversation I’d like to finish.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I’ve got a feeling what kind of conversation you’re talking about. But listen, she’s fine. No permanent damage from the fire. And as for the other thing, she left before talking to you for a reason. She’s not looking to start up something with anyone. You were just a checkbox on her list, a one-time thing. Be glad. Isn’t that every guy’s dream? No strings or obligation to call the next day.”

He started to respond to the question but then his mind snagged on the other part. “Wait, what do you mean, I was a checkbox on her list?”

She groaned and put her hand to the door, swinging it toward him. “Good-bye, stalker guy.”

“Sam—” But the door was already clicking shut.

Fuck.

Sam wasn’t going to budge. Plan B time. He headed down the hallway of the apartment building and pulled his phone from his pocket. As usual, his assistant, Maile, answered on the first ring. “What’s up, boss?”

“Are you at your desk?”

“Chained to it, as always. I work for a slave driver, you know.”

He snorted. “My sympathies. Whatever you’re working on right now, put it on the side. I need you to dig up as much information as you can find on a woman named Tessa McAllen, birth-date October third, same year as me.”

How he still remembered Tessa’s birthday was a wonder, but it was there, seared on his brain like some permanent brand.

“What is this regarding? Is she a new business contact?” Maile asked, slipping into professional mode.

“No, this is a personal matter. Any information you find should remain confidential.”

There was a pause on the other line. “Wait, is this about the fire? The police were here this afternoon, looking to talk to you again. Boss, no offense, but you shouldn’t be doing your own investigating. If someone—”

“This isn’t about that.” Not directly at least. A detective had called him earlier today to inform him that they now suspected arson instead of an accidental fire. Kade knew they’d be searching for Tessa to get a statement, and he’d at least like to warn her before she got dragged into it. But, of course, if he said he was only seeking her out for that reason, he’d be a damn liar. “I need this information ASAP. I’ll be back in the office this afternoon.”

“You got it,” Maile said, hanging up without a good-bye. He loved that the woman was pure, no-frills efficiency. He had no doubt she was already on task before the phone settled in its cradle. He’d probably know when Tessa’s first baby tooth fell out by the end of the day.

And sure enough, a few hours later, Kade was sitting at his desk with a pile of printed documents in front of him. Maile pointed at the stack, indicating the colored sticky tabs she’d added to certain pages. “I labeled basic stats with green. But the gist is she doesn’t live far from here, has been working for a temp agency, and has no family in the area. Also, no criminal record.”

“Okay.”

“Work history’s labeled with blue. Not much info there. Though, she is the founder of a local charity. Gossip has the yellow tabs. Lots of that available.”

“Gossip?” he asked, glancing up from the top page, which held Tessa’s address and a newspaper photo of her in a party dress.

Maile pushed her black bob behind her ears and frowned. “Apparently, she was married to a pastor of one of those big time mega-churches in Atlanta up until a year ago. Pretty high-profile guy, Sunday sermons were broadcast on regional television, that kind of thing. The divorce made the society pages since they were a prominent couple in the area. Looks like things got nasty. Each accused the other of infidelity. She didn’t say much more than that publicly but the husband had lots to say. He accused her of being a pill popper, a gold digger, a cheater, and said she shirked her godly and wifely duties …”

“Wifely duties? What the fuck?”

“That’s what I’m saying. That line alone made me want to find this guy so I could kick him in his junk. Nothing was substantiated from what I can tell. And apparently this Marilyn Wallace, the reporter who penned most of the negative stories, used to be Tessa’s close friend, so that’s pretty interesting that she’d turn on her so quickly. My guess is she had some added motivation to write up the stories. But regardless, it looks like the society pages ate the shit up. The pastor’s reputation got dinged pretty good. People left his church, and he almost lost the TV slot. But looks like after some damage control, he was able to hold on to his contract and convince his congregation to give him the benefit of the doubt. She wasn’t so lucky. The press labeled her the washed up, pampered ice princess and called it a Cinderella story gone bad. Apparently, she didn’t come from money.”

No. She didn’t come from anything, Kade thought, an old sadness welling up. And he knew beyond a doubt that Tessa would have never popped pills. Tess’s birthmother had abandoned her because of drugs. In high school, Tess hadn’t even liked taking over-the-counter medicine, so that part was definitely bullshit and lies. He skimmed through a few of the documents. “Who was the guy?”

Maile flipped through the pages on her steno pad. “Um, something Barrett. Hold up, I wrote it down.”

But Kade already knew the rest of the answer, a bitter, icy cold moving through him. “Douglas Barrett.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said.

Kade sat back in his chair, feeling like a truck had rolled right over him. Douglas Barrett. It’d been a name he’d tried to block out of his memory completely, one that dragged him back to years he never wanted to revisit. Doug fucking Barrett. God, Tessa had gone through with it. She’d married that sociopath anyway. And had stayed with him all those years. She’d known what Doug had done that night—well, enough of what he’d done—and had still given herself to him.

For the security. The money.

Things Kade hadn’t been able to offer her.

“Boss, you okay?” Maile asked, her brows pinched together. “You don’t look so great.”

He rubbed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, doing his best to shove the past back to where it belonged. He was beyond all that. He would not let one drop of that leak in. All he was interested in was learning more about who Tess was now. “I’m all right. Anything else I should know?”

Maile pulled a paper from the bottom of the pile and slid it his way. “Last year, her charity applied to be the sponsored organization for our annual Dine and Donate event. We didn’t select them since we were focusing on homelessness last year. But they’re on the consideration list for this year since we’re planning to choose a charity focused on children.”

He perused the application in front of him. It’d been filled out by the director of Bluebonnet Place but under the founder column was Tessa’s married name. Even seeing Doug’s last name sitting next to hers made his stomach want to heave. But an idea was already forming in his head, lifting his mood a bit. “Are we close to selecting an organization yet?”

Maile sighed. “No, with Evelyn on medical leave, we don’t have anyone heading up things right now. I think PR is looking to hire someone from the outside to handle it.”

Kade smiled and pushed the application back toward Maile. “Please call the charity director and tell her we’re considering the organization, but that I insist on meeting with the founder to find out more about their work first.”

Maile narrowed her eyes, evaluating him like his grandmother did that first night he’d shown up on her doorstep. “Kade Vandergriff.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“You have that scheming look on your face. What are you up to?”

“Me? I’m just trying to get more involved in my company’s charitable contributions.”

Maile shook her head and looked to the ceiling. “Lord, help us all. Kade’s got his eye on a woman.”

“Aww, you know you’re the only girl for me, Mai,” he teased as she rose from her chair.

She glanced back over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. “Eww boys, gross.”

He chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I’ve seen your girlfriend. I wouldn’t leave her for me, either.”

She smirked. “So who is this Tessa McAllen to you, really?”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk and looking at the photo of Tessa again. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

SEVEN

“You should come with me,” Tessa said, anxiously flipping through the brochures and paperwork the director had handed over to her. “You’ll be so much better at this than me.”

Iris gave her a warm smile and folded her hands on top of the desk, that stern grandmotherly vibe wafting off of her. “Ms. McAllen, his assistant was very specific. Mr. Vandergriff wants to meet with the founder, not me. And no one is more passionate about this place than you are. You’re going to do great. In fact, I still don’t understand why you don’t take a position here. I’d happily step down to assistant director since I’m only a few years from retirement. This is your baby.”

Tessa tucked the papers in her bag, her palms sweaty already. This was exactly why she hadn’t appointed herself director when she moved back. Just because she had founded the charity didn’t mean she was qualified to run it. She had a high school education and a resume that could barely fill half a page. Hi, can I take your order? was much closer to her skillset than this. Doug hadn’t even let her near the financials of Bluebonnet because he said it would take too long for him to teach her what she was looking at.

How the hell was she supposed to meet with the CEO of some giant company and sound even halfway intelligent? Especially with the pressure of knowing how much was riding on this. Getting selected could mean the answer to her prayers for keeping Bluebonnet open. But if she flubbed it, the hard-working woman sitting in front of her would be out of a job and all those kids she’d passed on her way in would be out of services.

No. She wasn’t going to let that happen. She took a steadying breath. “Okay, yes, I can do this.”

“Of course you can, dear.” Iris’s dark hand covered Tessa’s pale, shaking one, giving it a squeeze. “And if this opportunity doesn’t work out, there will be more. I’ve been sending letters to lots of potential donors. Something will come through. You’ve created a good thing here. Others will see that and want to help.”

Tessa nodded, trying to absorb some of the older woman’s confidence and shake off the veil of guilt that tried to envelop her at Iris’s assertion. Yes, Tessa had created good things here by coming up with the concept and providing the funds via her ex-husband. But the day-to-day miracles belonged to the woman behind the desk and the rest of the staff. The pictures lining the walls were of kids with employees and volunteers who were in the trenches here day to day. The only photos of Tessa were one from opening day when she’d cut the ribbon they’d tied around the building and another at an awards ceremony. In the grand scheme of it all, Tessa’s role was remote and minor at best—the face of the charity but not the backbone. That fact hadn’t bothered her before, but now it dug into her gut like a burr, sticking there and reminding her of its presence with every breath.

She so didn’t deserve to be the person representing the charity to some bigwig donor today, but it looked like there was no way around it. And maybe, if by some miracle she could pull this off, it would help make up a little for her hands-off approach the last few years.

She gathered all of her documents and stood. “Thank you, Iris, for the pep talk and for everything you do here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the way you put your soul into this place.”

Iris rose from behind her desk and came around to give Tessa a hug. The move made Tessa stiffen with surprise, but soon she found herself returning the gesture. Iris pulled back and patted Tessa’s cheek. “It’s my pleasure, dear. And we’re glad to have you here in town with us now. That man was no good for you.”

Tessa laughed, caught off guard by the woman’s candor. Usually, she was the consummate professional, never uttering an unkind word toward anyone, except maybe the occasional bless his heart. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Now, go get us that money, girl,” Iris said with a grin. “And don’t you be a stranger around here. This is your home as much as it is ours.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tessa said, feeling an old twinge at the word home. That simple word had always been such a fleeting concept in her life. Any time she thought she had fledgling roots starting to dig in, the sand shifted beneath her again and the rain washed them away. And here once more, life was trying to pull something else out from beneath her.

No, not life this time. Doug.

The bolt of anger that flashed through her at the thought had her shoulders pulling back and her chin tipping up. No freaking way was she letting him win.

No matter what she had to do, she was going to get this money.

She gave Iris a quick good-bye and headed to her car with renewed resolve. Watch out, Mr. CEO, because Tessa McAllen wasn’t taking no for an answer today.

Tessa’s confidence flagged slightly when she arrived downtown and stared up at the gleaming building that held Vandergriff Industries, but she didn’t have time to let all the insecurities rush back in. Her appointment was in less than fifteen minutes, and being late was not an option. She hurried to the bank of elevators and punched the button for the twenty-second floor. On the ride up, she read over the bullet points she’d typed into her phone and practiced her spiel in her head.

Fake it ’til you make it. The little tome Sam had offered kept replaying in her mind. If Tessa acted like she was confident and well-informed, people would believe it. That was the theory at least. And she was well-informed about the charity. Confident? Well, that’d require the faking part.

When she reached the office of Kade Vandergriff, a serious-faced Asian woman lifted a hand in greeting from behind her desk but was on the phone. She motioned for Tessa to have a seat and that she’d be a minute. Tessa sat in one of the cushy chairs along the wall and fought the urge to gnaw on her thumbnail—a childhood habit that liked to resurface at the worst times. Waiting rooms had never been happy places for her. Child services. Principals’ offices. Therapy sessions. Police stations. Waiting rooms usually meant bad news.

The woman put the phone in its cradle and came around the desk to greet Tessa. “You must be Ms. McAllen.”

Tessa stood and put out her hand. “Yes.”

“I’m Maile, Mr. Vandergriff’s assistant.” She shook Tessa’s hand and gave her an almost undetectable once-over, her eyebrow lifting slightly as if she was surprised by what she found. Maybe she’d been expecting an older woman, someone more distinguished to be the founder of a charity.

“Nice to meet you.”

Maile smiled, and it changed her whole face, bringing effortless beauty to the surface. “Same. I’ll let Mr. Vandergriff know you’re here. He should only be a minute.”

“Thank you.”

Maile slipped back behind her desk and lifted the phone again while punching a button. “Ms. McAllen is here to see you.” She gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her in.”

Tessa gripped her documents close to her chest, butterflies the size of velociraptors crashing around in her stomach.

“You can go on in,” Maile said, indicating the door behind her.

Tessa thanked her and took a deep breath, then headed toward the door, letting her I’m-totally-calm-and-confident mask slip into place. She’d practiced that facade with every new school she’d started, every new family she’d been placed with. Don’t let anyone see fear. The knob turned with ease in her hand, and she pushed the door open.

But the face that greeted her on the other side had all her plans tumbling into a free fall like a plane with broken wings. She could almost hear the whine of wind rushing past her ears. Mayday, mayday! Boom! Crash!

Van, no, Mr. Vandergriff, smiled and stood. “Hi, Tessa, why don’t you shut that door behind you and come on in?”

She blinked, realizing she’d frozen there in the doorway like some slack-jawed sculpture. She cleared her throat, her skin flushing from foot to crown. “Right, of course.”

She shut the door and somehow found her way across his very large, very posh office and stopped in front of his desk. The vision of him standing there in his expensive pinstripe suit with the view of downtown Dallas framed behind him in the large corner-office windows was almost too much to take in all at once. He’d exuded confidence on Friday night, but this version of him almost made her tip backward in her heels with the force of his presence. He took the papers from her grasp and set them on the desk, then took her hand between his. “I’m so happy to see you again and to see that you’re all right after the other night. You are okay, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” She stared at him, lost for a moment in that penetrative blue gaze, the memory of that night stirring both arousal and embarrassment. She’d been so wanton with him … and way too honest. This man hadn’t just seen her naked, she’d told him things that you only tell your closest friends—or people who you thought you’d never see again. “You gave me a fake name.”

She cringed at her accusatory tone. Damn, that wasn’t what she’d meant to say.

He released her hand, amusement flashing through his eyes as he motioned for her to take a seat. “No, I gave you a nickname I occasionally use. And you weren’t totally forthcoming on the name bit either, Tessa, so maybe we should call it even.”

She sat down, ready to explain, but as the present moment finally settled in around her, it hit her that though she was reeling, he didn’t seem at all surprised to see her there. “You knew it was me who was coming today.”

He gave an enigmatic smile. “We have a lot to talk about.”

She glanced down at her stack of brochures, suddenly remembering why she’d come there today. Oh, God. How in the hell was she supposed to pitch her children’s charity to a guy who’d licked olive oil and orange juice off her boobs? She wanted to put her face in her hands and die right there. That would be easier than suffering through this conversation. “I don’t even know where to start. This … I wasn’t expecting …”

“Tessa,” he said, cutting off her rambling with a firm but kind voice. “Don’t be embarrassed. We’re both adults, and everything is fine. How about we get this business stuff done first? Then we can tackle anything else afterward.”

She rolled her lips inward and nodded, doing her best to regain her composure. “Sounds good.”

He leaned back in his chair and hooked an ankle over his knee, as if settling in to evaluate her, but he started talking before she could begin her speech. “First, let me explain a little about our event so you know what we’re looking at. Every year, Vandergriff Industries gathers the top restaurants in the city, not just the ones we own, to participate in a large, upscale wine and food event called Dine and Donate. Each restaurant who participates sends a team to man a booth that sells appetizers and cocktails to attendees. We try to have at least thirty restaurants participate so that people have a variety of cuisines to sample. We also book local bands to play throughout the day and then usually a well-known act to headline the night. All proceeds go to the selected charity for that year.”

“Wow, sounds like a major undertaking,” she said, already imagining how much money something that large scale must bring in for the lucky charity.

“It is,” he agreed. “And we’ve been very successful with it over the last few years, which is why so many charities solicit us now.”

She wet her lips, nerves creeping back in as she pictured a line of worthy charities wrapping around the building, hoping to be the chosen one.

“And we wish we could select them all, but the biggest impact comes from choosing the one each year where we can really make a significant difference.”

“Right.”

“So,” he said, leaning forward and putting his forearms on the desk, “tell me why being selected would make a significant difference to your charity.”

His laser gaze pinned her to the spot, and it felt like her tongue dried out and shrunk to half its size. She fiddled with opening the brochure in front of her while trying to find her voice. “Well, I brought—”

His hand landed over hers, stilling her nervous movements. “No, don’t read to me about it. Tell me, Tessa.”

She looked up, her heart doing a discordant drumroll against her ribs. This was her chance, Bluebonnet’s only chance to survive right now. All those people and kids were counting on her. She couldn’t freeze up like a frightened mouse or screw this up because she happened to be intimidated by/attracted to/left speechless by this man. She nodded and he released her hand.

“Bluebonnet Place is a charity focused on helping older children in foster care develop life and work skills so that when they age out of the system, they have a foundation to stand on. We assign them mentors who help them with college applications and with applying for financial aid. We assist them in getting jobs during high school to gain work experience and skills. And we provide a place where they can come after school if they need a break from their household or the group home or the streets.”

Kade nodded, seeming as if he was listening with every ounce of his attention. It was both unnerving and confidence building.

She cleared her throat, encouraged by his interest, and began to share the statistics of how many kids aged out of the system and what their likely outcomes were without support. The grim numbers made her stomach twist, but she continued on, her passion for the cause starting to rise to the surface and speed up her words.

Kade took a few notes and appeared appropriately concerned by some of the more dire statistics.

“And I know that we’re small and still relatively new,” she continued, “But—”

Kade held up a hand, halting her. “Don’t start apologizing and undermining everything you just said.”

She bit her lip, swallowing back her instinct to spout disclaimers. “Okay.”

“It sounds like an amazing cause, Tessa. Truly. I’m impressed that you put such a thoughtful organization together.”

“Thank you.” Her heart was like a Boombox rattling her ribcage, and her palms had gone sticky with sweat against the arms of the chair.

“And it would be an honor to have Bluebonnet Place as the featured charity at our event.”

Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod. It was like everything was happening in slow motion, like a dream.

“However …”

Her breathing stopped, the awful word clanging in her ears.

“There would be some conditions,” he finished.

The air whooshed out of her in a gust. Conditions. Not a no. Conditions! She could handle that. Heck, she couldn’t imagine anything that would stop her from saying yes. Anything would be better than crawling on her hands and knees and begging her asshole ex-husband for help. She grabbed her pen and flipped her steno pad to a fresh page. “What do you have in mind?”

“Evelyn, our point person who is usually in charge of the event, is on medical leave.”

“Okay.” She made a note.

“And I know that you’re currently working for a temp agency, is that correct?”

She frowned, unsure what that had to do with anything and how he knew the information in the first place. “I am.”

He tugged open one of his desk drawers and pulled out a folder. His eyes met hers. “I need you to quit and come to work for me.”

EIGHT

Tessa tilted her head, the words not quite registering. “Wait, you want me to what?”

“In order for this to happen, I’ll need you to quit the temp agency and take over the event this year as coordinator,” Kade said, his tone no-nonsense.

She stared at him, wondering if he’d knocked his head on something or maybe had gotten sauced on his lunch break. Clearly, he was talking crazy.

“We’d, of course, pay you a fair salary since the position will be full time for the next few months.” He slid a document her way, pointing to a salary number that would take her at least two years of temp work to make. “You’ll have a small office in the PR department and access to one of their assistants if you need administrative help.”

“Van, I mean, Mr. Vandergriff—” she said, panic rooting in her chest and spreading outward. He was being serious?

“Please, call me Kade.”

“Kade,” she said, her eyes lifting from the document before her. All the things he’d said about the event swam through her brain, forming a whirlpool of there’s no fucking way protests—thirty restaurants, booking bands, getting a headliner … “I appreciate the offer, but you don’t understand. I’m not qualified to—”

“Of course you are,” he said, his tone not leaving room for argument. “No one will be more passionate about swaying people to participate. I received a copy of your resume from the temp service. You have the basic office skills you need to stay organized, and the admin can help with the little details. Your main focus will be on garnering participants and planning the event. You listed event planning in your Other Skills section on the resume.”

Shit. Once again she was reminded why lying was such a bad idea. She’d added that at Sam’s suggestion to fluff up the resume. And sure, Tessa had planned big parties before, but only at her home, nothing for anyone who was paying her to get it right. “Those events were personal ones. Nothing official. I don’t think I’m capable of taking on—”

“This is the condition, Tessa. Nonnegotiable. I have complete faith that you can do this. If you can’t get the donors lined up, your charity is the one that suffers. And I know you won’t let that happen.”

Her lungs felt like they’d been flattened with a rolling pin. She tried to pull in a breath. There was no way she could take this on. It’d be an utter failure. The highest-level job she’d ever held was the one she had now, and that was only one step above being ticket taker at the local theater. But if she turned it down, Bluebonnet Place wouldn’t get the money at all. She’d walked in promising herself she’d do whatever it took to get this chance and now that promise was coming home to roost like a big, fat, squawking hen.

“Do you accept my condition, Tessa?” Kade asked, all business.

Did she accept? As if she had any choice. Nerves moved over her skin like static. What if she completely embarrassed herself? What if donors laughed in her face? She rubbed her hands along the arms of the chair, trying to get them to stop shaking.

“I guess I do. I’m not sure why you would want me to—” Another worry sparked in the hollows of her chest, cutting off her train of thought. “Wait, tell me you’re not doing this because of what happened between us Friday night.”

She’d die if this was some handout because she hadn’t had money that night, or worse, if it was some after-sex payoff. Bang the CEO, get a job.

He smiled. “Rest assured. I’m not doing this because of Friday night.”

She nodded, hearing the sincerity and taking comfort in that. Thank God. “Okay.”

He pulled out another sheet of paper and slid it on top of the other. “I’m doing this because of Friday night.”

She peered down at the new document with dread. “What is it?”

“This says that you will report directly to the head of the PR department, not to me, and that I have no say-so in your employment status and no authority to terminate you in the future.”

“I don’t understand. Why does that matter?” she asked, scanning the page but not really understanding why it was necessary.

He reached out and put a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face toward his. “Because when you’re in my bed again, I don’t want you worrying about business getting mixed with pleasure.”

Her ribs pulled tight, her spine going ramrod straight. “Excuse me?”

He lowered his hand but not his uncompromising gaze. “I told you on Friday. One night was not enough.”

“And I told you that’s all I had to give,” she said, the words barely making it past her constricted throat. “Is this a condition of the deal?”

His lips curved with hot promise. “Of course not. I plan on pursuing you whether you take the job or not.”

“Kade,” she protested, goose bumps breaking over her skin at the thought of him touching her again. But bad idea didn’t even begin to describe what getting involved with him would be, especially now. “I can’t, we can’t …”

He stood and walked around the desk, sliding into the spot in front of her. The look he gave her when he perched on the edge of the desk and peered down stripped her to the studs. “Tell me you haven’t thought about Friday night.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands. God, of course she had, about a thousand times since she’d left him. I can teach you things. His naughty words had reverberated through her every night when she’d lay in bed alone. “It doesn’t matter if I have or haven’t.”

“Of course it does. In fact, right now, that’s all that matters to me,” he said, his voice like warmed honey sliding over her. “Put me on your list, Tessa.”

Her attention snapped upward. List? “What? How do you know about—?”

“Your friend, Sam, let it slip when I tried to find you to see if you were okay,” he said, as if it was totally normal that he’d sought out her best friend to track her down.

Humiliation washed through Tessa, and she made a mental note to kill her best friend. Headstone: Samantha Dunbar, death by TMI.

“So what item did I check off for you?”

She put a hand to her forehead. Jesus. This is not happening. “We are so not talking about this.”

“Oh, we so are.” He nudged her with his knee, his whole demeanor switching to playful mode. “I’m dying to know. Was it seduce a stranger?”

She snorted. “Hello, you seduced me. I was minding my own business, thank you very much.”

He grinned. “Okay, I’ll grant you that. So, let’s see, was it, have a one-night stand? Do something kinky?”

She groaned. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine, my list has things on it I want to improve. One of them was what my ex said to me about being bad in bed.”

Kade’s expression instantly darkened. “Your ex obviously had no idea what to do with you.”

“Probably not.”

“No probably about it.” Kade hooked both his ankles around the legs of her chair and dragged her and the chair forward until she was braced between his knees. He laid his hands over hers on the arms of the chair and leaned into her space, his expression full of temptation and illicit intention. “I do know what to do with you, to you. Give me a chance to show you, Tessa.”

She stared back at him, captured in the spell he was weaving around them, her body warring with her common sense. Everything about Kade called to her—his voice, his smile, the way he looked at her as if she were the most decadent meal of his life. He was temptation wrapped up in an unfairly sexy package, like a tropical vacation to her midwinter life.

“You don’t understand. My life is all kinds of complicated right now. I’m juggling so much already—a new town, night school, trying to find a career, my list. And now with this job it’s going to increase a hundred fold. I don’t have the ability to add one more potentially complicated thing.”

His gaze softened. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, I can make it exceptionally uncomplicated.”

“Sex is always complicated,” she replied, but there was no punch in her protest.

“No, sex is complex. Relationships are complicated. Friday night was as simple and straightforward as it gets.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You call that simple? That was like a three-ring circus compared to my former sex life.”

“This further proves how neglected and sheltered you’ve been,” he said, his tone full of graveness but humor crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I can show you complex. Complex, kinky, deviant. Pick your poison.”

She smiled, remembering his words from the other night. I’m a kinky fucker. “Sounds like I’d need to create a whole new page of the list to cover all that.”

He leaned back to grab something on his desk and then reached for her hand. Before she could figure out what he was doing, he stamped the top of her hand.

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