Good Girls Don't (30 page)
Bill scanned the sheet, clearly visible in the candlelight. “I can see them.”
“Answer the questions.”
“That’s it?”
“For now.” Her lips curved into a sneaky smile. “Answer honestly.”
“Of course.” He looked at the questions, read them all, then peered at Lettie, writing her answers.
“Some of these are rather interesting.”
“Yes, they are,” she agreed, fighting a smile and looking even more seductive.
She tucked her blond curls behind her ears. Bill eyed the tender lobes, remembered sucking them, whispering erotic words against the shell as she came.
“Bill?”
Evidently, Lettie had noticed he hadn’t written the first thing on his page.
“What’s the object of the game?” he asked.
“Simple. To get to know each other better.”
“All right.” There weren’t that many questions on the paper, so he answered them fairly quickly, though a few of them required more thought.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Hand me your pen.”
He placed it in her hand, rolling the smooth cylinder in her palm before letting go.
She hissed in a breath, straightened in the chair, then placed the pens back in the box. “Okay. Now the rules.”
“I’m listening.”
Lettie recited the short set of rules listed inside the box lid. “‘Number one. Both players answer a corresponding list of questions. The number of questions varies, depending on whether you’ve selected an easy, normal, or advanced game.’”
“What did we select?” Bill asked.
“Easy.”
“Didn’t think I could handle advanced?”
She smiled. “Didn’t think I could.”
Bill liked the sound of that.
“‘Number two. In this game, ladies always go first.’”
He nodded. “Agreed.”
“Here’s the nitty-gritty. ‘Play commences when the female reads the first question and identifies what she believes the male answered.’”
“You’re going to try to guess what I wrote?”
“Exactly.”
He scanned his list. This should be fun. “Then what?”
She continued reading, “‘If she guesses correctly, the male removes one item of his clothing. If she guesses incorrectly, she must remove one clothing item. Then the male follows this pattern, with a correct answer requiring the opponent to remove clothing, and an incorrect answer requiring the player to remove clothing.’”
“Damn fine game,” he said. “How do you know who wins?”
She continued reading: “‘You both win, because you learn more about your compatibility; however, at the end of the game, the player with the most articles of clothing still in place, technically, wins.’”
“What if no articles of clothing are in place?”
“Seems to me, you still win,” she said, laying the lid aside.
“Works for me.”
She leaned toward the box, a motion that pushed her breasts together and gave him a glimpse of cleavage.
“Nice view.”
She gave him a coy smile. “It could be better, if you answer right.”
“Or if you answer wrong.”
“That too.”
“Trust me, Lettie, one way or another, those clothes are coming off. And when they do, whatever I haven’t learned about you, I will learn. Eventually.”
Her slender neck pulsed as she swallowed. “That sounds like a promise.”
“It is.”
She handed him a long board with sliding pink tabs. “Put your answers in this.”
Bill slid his paper in the slot. The tabs covered each of his answers. “Clever game.”
“Amy’s a clever girl.”
“So is her sister.”
Her eyes brightened. “I’ve got some news.” She couldn’t contain the excitement in each word, and Bill realized her announcement had nothing to do with the game. It did, however, have everything to do with Lettie’s happiness. He saw that much in her facial features, glowing and bursting to tell him.
“Looks like good news.” His mind fast-forwarded. What would her face look like if she ever told him she had some news, then finished the sentence with “I’m pregnant”? He knew that wasn’t what tonight’s “news” was about, but one day, hopefully. . . .
“You know how I was always doodling in high school? Couldn’t hardly pay attention in class if I had a sketchpad in hand.”
“Doodling—no. Designing—yes. Of course, I remember. You wanted to be a fashion designer.” He lifted one shoulder, gave her a crooked smile. “I confiscated your drawings one day and took a look, remember?”
She blinked, and he knew she recalled that day in tenth-grade English.
“I went to turn in my homework, and you snatched my sketchpad.” Another blink. “You said my designs were really good.”
“They were.”
Her head shook slightly as she spoke. “I thought you were just being nice.”
“I was telling the truth.”
“Yeah, you were.” She straightened in her chair. “I took a new job this week, designing a new lingerie line for Charlene Frank. She’s—”
“
The
Charlene Frank?”
Her pride surged forth, and he was thrilled to see it. A truly confident Lettie Campbell was a very pretty thing. “You know her?” she asked.
“Everyone in advertising knows her. She single-handedly turned the media’s eyes toward Atlanta as the newest city for up-and-coming fashion.”
“This afternoon, she hired a new designer for her lingerie line.”
“Then Ms. Frank is as intelligent as they say.”
Lettie beamed. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“Bill?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s play.”
H
e loved her. He loved her and he believed in her and he wanted her.
Lettie had gained all the information she needed to know from the look in his eyes, from the pride in his voice, the sensitivity in his touch.
Bill Brannon wanted her, not only her body, but her heart as well. The friend
and
the lover. He’d understood her dream, and he’d understood how much it meant to her. Even more, he’d believed in her as far back as tenth grade.
But she hadn’t believed in him. Had thought he was merely being nice. The irony didn’t go unnoticed.
“You go first,” Bill reminded.
“Right.” She extended her answer card. He met her halfway with his, but they didn’t swap them quickly. The moment their fingers touched, their eyes met.
“We don’t need the game, do we?” she whispered.
“No, we don’t. I will get to know you, Lettie.”
“You already do.”
“So, do you still want to play?” he asked.
“We probably should.” At his cocked brow, she added, “Amy hasn’t put this out for distribution yet.”
Bill laughed out loud. “In other words, she’s using us as test subjects? You were letting me play guinea pig on a date that could change our lives?”
She grinned. “Funny, we never thought of it that way.”
“We? How many people were in on this?”
“Me, Amy, Cassie.” She paused, then shrugged. “Erika.”
“My Erika?”
“She wanted to help. By the way, she’s spending the night at my apartment tonight with Amy. She said it’d be okay with you.”
Another rumbling Bill Brannon laugh trickled down her spine and warmed her already-moistened core. “You’re incredible, Lettie.”
“How incredible?”
“Why don’t we play, and then we’ll find out.”
She took his card and read the first question out loud. “List your favorite animal.” She looked at him, remembered the little Benji-looking creature that always followed him to school. “Dog,” she said, then flipped the pink tab and read his scrawled answer. “I’m right.”
“That you are.” He removed a shoe.
Lettie frowned.
“What?” he asked.
“A shoe?”
“Isn’t that the way this game works? Much like strip poker, I assume. You save your ace for last.” His confident smile sent liquid pooling to her thighs.
How would she make it through every question?
“My turn,” he said. “Favorite animal. Dog.” He flipped the tab; then those chocolate eyes widened. “Monkey? You’ve gotta be kidding.”
She laughed.
“Really?”
“That was my answer, wasn’t it?” she teased. “Now, another article of clothing, please.”
He removed another shoe.
“Spoilsport.”
“I’m learning something new about you already, Ms. Campbell.”
“What’s that?”
“A lack of patience.”
“Only where you’re concerned,” she said. “Okay. Next question. Favorite color. Black.” She flipped the tab. “Ha! Right again.”
He lifted one leg and removed a sock, holding up his bare foot for her perusal before placing it back on the rose-petaled floor.
Had she always had a foot fetish? Funny, she hadn’t realized it before, but the sight of Bill Brannon’s foot was definitely doing
something
. Then again, as hot as she was right now, and as long as she’d been without an orgasm, seeing anything associated with Bill Brannon would do
something
.
“My turn,” he said. “Favorite color. Pink.” Turning the tab, he read, “‘Purple’?”
“Purple,” she agreed. “Now, do your thing.”
Another sock hit the floor.
Yep, she definitely had a foot fetish.
“Next question. Career goal. Advertising executive.” She looked behind the tab. “Bingo. Pay up.”
He removed his watch.
“You’re going to regret that,” Lettie said, glaring at the leather band.
“I’m counting on it,” he answered. “Career goal. Fashion designer.” He viewed her answer and grinned. “Take it off, Lettie.”
With every one of her seduction skills in place, she slowly unbuttoned the first button of her blouse. Then another. And another. Then she pushed her chest out as she slid the garment down her arms and dropped it to the floor.
“You didn’t wear a bra.” His voice was forced.
“I decided to follow your rules.”
She watched his mouth open slightly, obviously remembering the other part of his bad-boy rule.
“That was for the car,” he reminded, though the words were clipped, with his jaw so tense.
“I assumed it applied to your house as well.” She shrugged, then cheered inwardly when his eyes watched her breasts move with the action.
“And if you didn’t wear a bra . . .”
“I, of course, didn’t wear panties either.”
His eyes grew pretornado dark, and she was anxious to set the storm free.
“Lettie.”
“Yeah. Oh right. My turn. Number of children. Two.” She peeled back the tab. “Four?”
His brows lifted. “That okay with you?”
She grinned. More than okay. “Perfect.” Then she lifted one leg, removed her heel and tossed it to the floor, following his example by wiggling her toes. “Your turn.”
“Number of children. Four.”
“You tricked me,” she said as he turned the board toward Lettie so she could read her own answer.
“Yeah, I did,” he admitted.
Sighing, and smiling, she removed the second shoe.
She lifted his card. “The day that changed your life more than any other.”
He scooted forward in his chair, steepled his fingers beneath his chin.
“This is a tough one,” she said.
“Wasn’t for me.”
“No?”
“No.”
“I’ll say.” She pondered,
What did he write?
She desperately wanted to get this correct, and not simply because a wrong answer would remove her only other stitch of clothing. Clearing her throat, she answered, “The day Erika came to live with you.”
She didn’t turn the tab. Instead, she looked at him for her answer.
“That day did change my life, but not in the same way as my answer. Go on, Lettie. Look and see.”
Taking a deep breath, she lifted the bright pink rectangle. Her throat closed in. Chest tightened. And the tiny spots beneath both ears tingled before her tears burst free.
“Say it, Lettie.”
“‘The day a beautiful blonde showed up for fifth grade, ready to take Sheldon by storm, and more than ready, and able, to claim my heart.’” She swallowed and looked at him with tear-filled eyes.
“I love you, Lettie.”
“God, I love you too.” She circled the table and climbed on his lap, wasting no time at all sealing their proclamation of love with a hot, heated kiss. Lifting her lips from his, she stared into his eyes. “I make mistakes.”
“I do too.”
“I’m not always good,” she said.
“And I’m not always bad.” He lowered his head and took a nipple in his mouth, sucked it hard, then released it. “But right now, I’d say I am.”
“Works for me,” she said, then laughed through her tears.
“Did you really follow my rule? Completely?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Then you definitely owe me a pair of pants.”
“I guess I do, don’t I? But first, tell me. What would you have said?”
“Said?”
“For my final answer. The day that changed my life forever. What did you think I’d say?”
“Today,” he answered, then lifted her card and pulled the tab aside, revealing that very word. “I’m right.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Looks like you’re going to owe me another item of clothing.”
“I’m only wearing one more,” she said, shimmying off his lap and unbuttoning her pants.
His jaw flexed as she slid the zipper down, then pushed her pants to the floor. “You did follow the rules,” he said, his eyes drinking in her nudity.
“I did.”
“I don’t expect you to be good all the time.” He reached out and ran his hand down her side; her entire body quaked with need.
“And I don’t expect you to be bad all the time,” she said. “But if you’re going to be bad some of the time . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Right now would be . . .” She sucked in a breath as he pulled her body close, kissing her belly, then moving in a direct path to . . . “Oh!”
“A very good time,” he whispered, his words feathering against her pulsing need. “A. Very. Good. Time.”
Four years later
S
he here yet?” Evan asked, nudging his way into the shoulder-to-shoulder group peering through the glass window.
Cassie laughed. “Oh, she’s here, all right.” She held her camera near the glass and snapped another shot. “And she’s making certain the world knows it.”
