If You Dare (10 page)

Cordelia knew she should be impressed by the five star restaurant and the five star meal. She knew she should soak in the ambiance of this perfect place.

But she couldn’t seem to get her mind off the way Joe’s fingers curled around his fork. The way those same fingers had teased her in the elevator leaving her hungry for more.

Damn, damn, double damn.

She was certainly blowing the temptress role tonight.

Joe sat there eating his salad, asking her questions she didn’t want to answer, completely at ease.

She was going to sue the writer who’d convinced her pantiless was the way to go.
 

A man probably wrote the article as some big joke.

Ugh!

She took another bite of what might’ve been lettuce and tried to focus on tantalizing conversation and less on the way he kept sliding his index finger over the sweat beads on the outside of his wine glass. “So you’ve been here how long again?”

She hated the fact that he was perfectly at ease when he answered. “Four years and counting. Finished law school and never looked back.”

She nodded, trying to focus on his words and not on the way his lips moved. Oh man.

“Did you always want to be a lawyer?”

“Pretty much.”

Something about the way he said the words caught her attention. The tenor of the words carried a special meaning. After her years in the classroom she was great at reading between the lines, and Joe’s tone screamed negativity.

One part of her wanted to ask him to go on. But maybe it was for the best that she not explore the hidden meaning in his words. “I looked at law, but I couldn’t do it. Not even to make my mother and father proud.”

Cordelia caught her breath as he reached across the table and took her hand in his. Finger still wet from the wine glass, he traced a slow line down her palm as he spoke. “Irene told me you left law school and went into teaching instead. I can’t imagine.”

For a second, Cordelia couldn’t imagine either. In fact, she was having a pretty difficult time thinking about anything other than the way her hand suddenly seemed directly connected to her very center.

Oh Lord, she couldn’t even pretend to eat anymore.

Setting her fork on the side of her plate, she tried to remember what it was they were talking about.

Law school. Her. The choice she’d made.

It was one of her shining moments, but she didn’t want to talk about that now. She wanted to talk about him, think about him, convince him to take her wherever he wanted and make wild, passionate love for the next twenty-four hours.

Okay, so the book had been a total bust on the promise of pantiless passion, but turn about was fair play. Surely her temperature was through the ceiling. It was his turn to burn.

Sitting back, she took a careful drink of her red wine. Moving her foot forward just a bit, she raised her toes to the edge of his pants even as she continued the conversation.

“So what made you choose law?”

There that look was again. The one filled with indecision, as if he wasn’t sure he would say a word… “Money. Power. Prestige.”

He wasn’t a bit fazed by the way her toes were gently rubbing the inside of his calf. Figured. Book strike two.

She let her foot fall to the floor with a small sigh before commenting on his words. “Ah. The American dream.”
 

“You bet.” He held up his wine glass in a fake salute before taking a drink.

He and her mother would get along just great. She’d grown up with money and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Power and prestige were even worse. But she wasn’t going to start that conversation. Nope. Not even for a second.
 

She really wished he’d take her hand again, but she couldn’t very well ask.

“So who inspired your American dream, Joe?”

She watched as he pondered her question. As he rolled it around in his mind trying to decide whether or not to answer. Maybe she should throw in a comment about how sex in the ladies room might qualify as a type of dream.
 

He didn’t give her a chance. “Who inspired yours?”

“My what?”

He shrugged. “Your American dream. Why teach?”

She didn’t even have to think about the answer. “Two people. I loved school and my senior English teacher made me love words. I want to give that joy to kids. And my Gran.”

“Irene talks about your grandmother. Says she drives your mother nuts.”

Nothing like a conversation about a girl’s grandmother to cause all thoughts of hot sex to evaporate.

Even her gran with all her wild ideas that certainly drove her mother crazy. Cordelia laughed. “Poor Mom. She’s junior league all the way. She even made Irene and me do that whole debutante, white dress stuff. Gran is the opposite. She’s a true hippie. Into Sylvia Plath and free love and communes. She’s a true believer in chasing your dreams no matter how far fetched they are or how often they change. I’m named after her. She wants us to call her Delia instead of Gran, but that’s a line Mother refused to cross.”

She looked across the table as she talked and realized she wanted to tell him more. She wanted to tell him how hard it was to know she’d disappointed her mother by refusing to grab the brass ring guaranteed by Harvard Law. How she went out of her way to make up for that disappointment.

But she couldn’t. Because she wasn’t that person at all. She was the sexually free, naughty summer fling grandchild of Delia Anderson.

Nothing else mattered. Except as she looked across the table at him, she realized it did matter.

She didn’t know the rules involved in vacation flings. But she knew she didn’t want Joe to start looking at her and seeing a small town English teacher.
 

That wasn’t conducive to her fantasy at all. In fact all this talk was pretty much bringing the sizzle down to simmer level.

“I bet you looked pretty hot in the white dress.”

She’d looked pretty hot in the bathtub. Call her conceited, but she thought looked pretty hot tonight. What in the world was he talking about? “White dress?”

He laughed and Cordelia narrowed her eyes as she wondered if he could read her mind. “Miss Debutante. I remember the way those girls looked and I bet you looked pretty damn good.”

Right. The last thing in the world she’d looked was good.

“Irene looked good. I looked…” She stopped and wondered how to explain how it had felt to be on display like that. How she’d felt out of place and ridiculous. Irene had loved every minute of the experience. Lived in the limelight. Encouraged by the chance to be even more outrageous.

She’d felt like a fraud. Just like she had when she pledged into the same sorority as her mother. Just like she had when she’d taken the LSats.

“I looked decent.”

This time his laughter was filled with unmistakable heat. “Sure. Like you look decent now.” He put his fork down on the side of his plate and waited for her eyes to meet his.

When they did, she felt the burn to her very center. Lord, the man had awesome eyes. And his voice was even better. “You’re an incredible looking woman, Cordelia. Clothes on and off.”

Now what was she supposed to say to that? Thank you? She was saved from answering for a moment as the waiters served their meal. She watched as her mostly uneaten salad was whisked away and the main course was placed in front of her.

She still didn’t feel like eating. She wanted to hear more about how she looked good naked. But he was settling in for the long haul, already testing the fish and encouraging her to do the same.

“Your turn. Tell me about Joe Sterling’s American Dream.”

She watched and waited and wondered if he’d avoid answering again. But he surprised her.
 

“You want the real deal, huh? Not just the dream I have of spending the rest of the night making love to you.”

Oh Lord, he could just stop talking right this second.

“Not the one that starts with me saying let’s forget about food for now and go see if the elevators around the corner are mirrored too. Or how the idea that you’re sitting over there bare assed under that skirt is just about driving me crazy. About how I’m tempted to scoot a little closer and see if I can reach…”

He moved forward and Cordelia felt his fingers on her knee. Oh Lord.

No contest. Dinner was over and small talk was just that. Talk.

This was a one-week fantasy. She didn’t need to know anymore about the man across from her than she already did.

Catching the waiter’s eye, she lifted her hand.

“Check please.”

Joe watched Cordelia’s face as she made her decision. Heard her gasp as his fingers found the soft flesh of her inner thigh. God she was hot.

A damn debutant.
 

Somehow it hadn’t mattered before. Hell, it wasn’t a secret. He’d certainly heard Irene laugh about those days.
 

How could he explain the feelings he had? About how his mother had been a debutante and thrown it all away to marry his father.

About how he’d grown up poor but loved and how everyone else in the damn family seemed fine with that.

About how the debutantes chased him throughout high school. About how they wanted sex and how he was more than happy to oblige. But how sex was it.
 

It was stupid to even think about now. Years had passed. Years in which he’d made enough money to buy and sell most of the old money families in his hometown.

Obviously he still had an issue with that kid he’d been.

Jeeze, he should be thankful for the way the debutantes and their rich boyfriends had treated his family. His success was due in part to them.

Across from him the hottest woman he’d met was practically begging to make love. He wasn’t going to waste his time thinking about the past and all that other nonsense.

He slid his hand over her knee as he spoke.

“We can stay here if you want. You know, eat. Drink. Be merry.”

He knew her answer before she said a word. But he wanted to watch the blush that blossomed on her cheeks, wanted to enjoy this teasing moment.

“Oh no you don’t. We’re going to go find that room. And once we do, you can go right ahead and be merry all you want.”

As Joe signed the charge slip he wondered why he felt disappointed at her easy agreement to move from conversation to sex.
 

And not just any sex. The hottest sex he’d experienced in a long time, maybe ever.

He looked across at her as she bit her bottom lip.

Definitely the hottest ever.

And that’s what he wanted, dammit. “Are you sure? We can stay here…”
 

He didn’t get to finish and he couldn’t say he wanted to when she stood beside him and nearly hauled him out of the chair.

God, her legs were long and perfectly formed. And the skirt that brushed them reminded him that only a few short inches separated her from him.

That if they were alone in that elevator he could go ahead and live out the fantasy from earlier. That she felt so good, tight and hot around him.

That her breathless cries would sound in his ear as she tried to keep others from hearing.

Dammit, why did that bother him?

Cordelia walked through the casino halls and couldn’t believe the difference in being here with Joe. She loved to play black jack and roulette, the ringing sounds of winning slot machines usually left her smiling.
 

But she was used to the invisibility caused by walking in Irene’s showgirl shadow. Tonight the only shadow was the one she was casting, and she’d expected to enjoy the feeling more.

But something was wrong with Joe. Cordelia wasn’t sure what it was, but the way his hand felt tight around her back seemed off. His smile just a little off kilter.

That off kilter smile left her wishing they were anywhere but the Strip. Just outside the elevator stands right next to the roped off high stakes poker games, Cordelia stopped.
 

“What’s wrong?”

His sigh spoke volumes, and for a second, Cordelia thought that might be his only response. Around them, crowds of people walked by as the hotel’s show came to an end. A scantily clad waitress carried drinks back to the poker rooms. And Cordelia stood still waiting, half hoping he’d answer, half hoping he’d haul her in his arms and kiss her until she didn’t have any questions.

He pulled her against his body and she closed her eyes in anticipation of what she thought he’d do.

But he asked her a question instead. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

Maybe she should just ignore this. Who really cared anyway? Besides she could barely even think, much less talk. But still… “You seem angry at me.”

He leaned in close and Cordelia felt the brush of his just barely stubbled cheek against her soft skin. “Darlin’, you’re reading the signs all wrong. I’m not the least bit angry.”

Cordelia knew he was lying, but she couldn’t make herself care as his arm trailed down her bare back and he leaned down to whisper. “Come on, Cordelia, we’ve got all night to talk.”

True, but…

“You’re just trying to get out of telling me what’s bothering you.”

Joe laughed and then nipped the edge of her mouth before whispering. “Honey, what’s bothering me is the idea of you standing there without any underwear on wanting to talk instead of making love. I feel like I’m losing my touch.”

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, Oh Lord.
 

She seriously could not breathe.

He truly was the sexiest man she’d ever known, and he was hers for the entire night. For five more days.

He was right. They were wasting time.

Joe held the elevator door open and watched Cordelia walk inside. He needed to get over this stupid desire to talk. What kind of guy chose conversation over sex? For a minute there, he’d have to say he fit that bill pretty much perfectly.

But not now. Not when she looked so good. Not when they were alone again in an elevator for the second time in one evening. And damn sure not when she turned around, leaned against the back of the elevator wall and sent him one hell of a come hither smile.