Tempted by a Dangerous Man (9 page)

Being no expert on men’s fashion, I didn’t know anything about it except to say that he was breathtakingly perfect. It wasn’t tight, but it wasn’t loose, either; the tailoring accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips.

He took a step toward me, smiling, and my eyes flitted over him, alternately gawking at the hint of his muscular legs and his thick, dark hair, swept away from his face. His electric blue-green eyes were even more startling than usual.

All the black and white could have been overwhelming, but he was… impeccable. Sophisticated and confident and way too hot. I wanted to rip it off him, fuck him senseless on the mountain of expensive, shredded clothing.

But of course I did no such thing.
 

“You’re dazzling, Audrey.”

And that set off another round of blushing. I carefully walked toward him, stepped into his ready embrace. “Thank you,” I said. “You thought of everything.”
 

He released me. “My pleasure.”

I reached for the pink ski jacket, but Corbin shook his head. He gently drew me toward the faux broom closet, and this time he pulled out a long black coat that I was willing to bet was cashmere.

“I can’t accept that.”

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as if disappointed. “It’s mine. I’m just loaning it to you.”

“But—”

“Please, Audrey. This next month is going to be…” He blinked. “Not fun.”

“How dangerous is it?”

“Not much more than usual. But please let me have this memory.”

Well, that was one way to win an argument. I allowed him to help me into the coat. The way he looked at me had me blushing to the tips of my toes. “So this is like a real date, I guess,” I said to cover my nervousness.

“I think we deserve one night without all that other stuff getting in the way. Don’t you?”

I nodded with a little smile and began fastening the buttons. Corbin pulled a dark purple scarf out of the closet and draped it around my neck. It was so soft that I actually sighed.

But then he opened the door, and I stared at the snow. Corbin stepped outside, turned and easily picked me up. He closed the door.

“You’re not carrying me down the mountain!” I said.

He laughed.

I snuggled into him as he carried me five minutes to the waiting SUV. And he didn’t seem the least bit winded by the time he carefully poured me into the seat.
 

“Can’t believe I missed this road.”

“It’s hardly a road,” he said. “And I might have been keeping you away from it.”

Corbin went back inside and returned with the backpack as well as a box.
 

I could allow myself this one night of being just a girl on a date with a boy she really liked. I wasn’t going to think about who he was, or who I was, or that I didn’t have a job or any money. I wasn’t even going to think about what’s-his-name who had almost ruined my life. Either of them.

Corbin had put together a perfect night, and even my insecurities and worries couldn’t ruin it.

~~~

We drove for over two hours. Corbin put on music—folk music this time. I was happy to look out the window, lost in my thoughts.
 

My mother had once told me that the sign of a good relationship was being comfortable in silence together. Well, we had that, though Corbin got most of the credit. He was so at ease in his own skin that just being around him could relax me. Or work me up, if I let my mind wander toward the carnal.
 

“We heading to Mexico?” I asked eventually.

He smiled. “Not long now.”

And in fact, twenty minutes later, a uniformed valet was opening my door and helping me out.

Corbin tipped the valet, then draped his arm across my shoulders. Inside, he helped me out of my coat and checked it.

The room was full of tuxedoed waiters who kept polite smiles on their faces and never made eye contact. Corbin and I weren’t the youngest diners, but I was willing to bet that I was the poorest.
 

The starched maître d’ led us to a table draped in stiff cloth that I already
knew
I was going to soil; I could have sworn that it trembled in fear. As we sat, I saw a waiter at the next table, though maybe not a waiter but a special wine guy, pouring two glasses from a dark bottle.
 

A sommelier, I remembered suddenly. That’s what they were called. “Where I come from, you just grab the box and tilt it,” I said.

Corbin smiled, but there was a trace of anxiety in his eyes. “Thank you for doing this,” he said.

“Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to have a real date with you since… a long time. Not as long as you think, though,” I added quickly.

But he wasn’t in the mood for making cocky comments about how irresistible I found him. He reached over and trapped my hands between his. “Thank you. For allowing me to do this. I… I’ve missed dating. Didn’t realize it.” His full lips twisted into a smile. “Well, there wasn’t anyone I wanted to spend time with.”

“Fuck them and leave them?” My voice was a little too loud, but Corbin didn’t seem to care.
 

“It was hardly the worst thing I was up to,” he said.

I shook my head. “It’s surreal, you know. This. Us.”

“For me, too. Because it’s normal.”

“Don’t ask me how, but that makes sense.”

He raised his eyebrows, nodded.

After dinner—which Corbin insisted on paying for—he led me through another door. There was a covered walkway with a red carpet that led outside. With Corbin’s arm around me, I barely felt the cold. Then we went up four steps.

A man quickly opened the door for us.

Corbin offered me his arm as we passed into the building. Everything was sparkling chandeliers and plush carpet, and I saw two other couples, the men dashing, the women smothered in diamonds.
 

The wine I’d had with dinner had left me a little tipsy, making everything even sweeter. I sighed, feeling like the star of a black-and-white movie.
 

I heard music, an orchestra. We went around a pillar and were at the opening of a grand ballroom.
 

There were tables and waiters with small trays, but no one was sitting or drinking. Instead, graceful couples swept around the dance floor, moving in time with the music. It was incredible how no matter whether they were turning or dipping, or which direction they moved, their movements seemed synchronized.
 

“I can’t,” I gasped as Corbin started forward.

He turned. “But I’ll be with you.”

I licked my lips and looked at the gliding couples. “I’m not a dancer.”

“You just have to follow,” he said. He leaned closer. “It’s my job to make you look good. Trust me.”

There it was. Trust. It kept coming up between us. And while I doubted he would give up on me if I refused to dance with him, it certainly wouldn’t help my case.

And anyway, he was already leading me to the edge of the dance floor. He faced me, and I placed my hands in his. “I don’t even know what music this is,” I said.

“Foxtrot.”

“But I don’t remember. It’ll be like learning all over again.” I felt my face heating with embarrassment. Being out of my depth didn’t bother me. Corbin knew I wasn’t a high-society girl, and I didn’t think he expected to turn me into one. If he did, he was going to have a very big surprise.

Looking like a fool wasn’t the problem. Colliding with one of the statuesque women and sending her crashing to the floor…

“You know the basic rhythm.”

“Not sure—”
 

“You do.” He dropped his voice. “Baby, you do. Keep your body loose and I’ll do the rest.” He waited a beat, then pulled me into the crowd. “Breathe,” he said.
 

“If I pass out, I’ll be a lot less resistant,” I said as Corbin danced me backward.

“I like you resistant.” He was looking straight ahead, so I couldn’t see his expression, not when I was so close to him.
 

“You’d like me better if I were obedient.”

“No way.” He danced us in a circle, changed direction as another couple plowed obliviously through. Now that I was on the floor, I realized that I wasn’t the only beginner. And while Corbin and I were dressed to the nines, many of the other dancers were wearing vintage clothing. Rhinestones, not diamonds.

It wasn’t the snooty ballroom I’d first thought.
 

The music slowed and stopped, then the small orchestra started anew. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Waltz. Pretend that you’re wearing oversized pajamas, and we’ll be fine.” He grinned down at me, and I stared up into his eyes. I decided that this was the most perfect moment of my life.
 

And I couldn’t concentrate on the steps. But it didn’t matter. Because Corbin held me in his arms. Just like he’d promised.

~~~

By the time the orchestra had begun to bow for the applauding dancers, I was floating on a cloud of bliss. Dancing had never been my thing, but watching Corbin do something so well was worth every bumbling, clumsy step.
 

How he managed to stay out of the way of my ill-timed kicks and hesitant steps, I had no idea. But he did. And he made it look easy.
 

And dancing, apparently, was a hell of an aphrodisiac. Especially when my partner had wings for feet. Feeling his body rubbing up against mine, his hands sliding along my arms and shoulders, sometimes pausing on my lower back, pulling me toward him, turning me, bringing me in close again… and one dance, I didn’t even know what it was, but his leg was between mine, and it was so delicious and naughty.

“You’ve been there before?” I asked as we waited at the restaurant coat check. Meanwhile, my gaze darted surreptitiously around, trying to find a quiet, dark place where I could drag Corbin for a bit of quick relief.

Because I knew I wouldn’t survive the drive back.

Corbin seemed completely unaffected, but I knew better. I had noticed his erection while we danced, and if I hadn’t dry-humped him on the floor, it wasn’t for lack of trying. He helped me into my coat, draped the gorgeous scarf around my neck, then put his arm around me. “Once, years ago. Wasn’t even sure it was still open.”

It had gotten quite cold outside, and when we got into the SUV, I was surprised that the valets had pre-warmed the inside.

And I had been impressed by heated seats. “Are you still answering all my questions, no matter what?”

Corbin shot a look at me, and his mouth settled into a firm line.
 

“It’s personal, but not top secret or anything,” I promised. “Probably.” When Corbin didn’t answer, I took that as permission to go ahead. “How much money do you have?”

He exhaled in a short burst. Amused, maybe. Or frustrated. Hard to tell in the dark. “Don’t know. I’m not trying to avoid the question, but I haven’t gotten an accounting in several years.”

That could only mean he had a lot. A hell of a lot.
 

“You and I are from completely different worlds,” I said. “You think it’s weird how well we get along?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Growing up, I knew my family had money, of course. But many of the places we lived, my friends had nothing. Less than nothing. Maybe if I’d grown up surrounded by people who were also smart enough to be born into a wealthy family… but I didn’t.”

“So does being around rich people make you uncomfortable? Since you grew up surrounded by poverty.”

He laughed. “No. And I don’t consider myself rich. I know I am, of course, but my life… day to day, the money I have in the bank doesn’t change anything. It won’t keep me alive. It won’t keep me safe. And it can’t buy me the things I want most.”

“To have your wife back,” I said.

“Peace. It can’t buy me that. Good friends. Health. These are the important things in life.”

“Spoken like someone who never cut the mold off of cheese,” I grumbled.

“Maybe I’m a fool. I pay extra for moldy cheese.” His voice grew serious. “What would you give to repair the rift between you and your father?”

My laugh sounded bitter, harsh. It wasn’t an attractive sound. “Why would I give a shit what happens to him? You know what I think is important? Not killing myself trying to please a father who never loved me.”

“He loves you,” Corbin said.
 

“You think that because if you had a daughter, you would adore her.”

“When imperfect people become parents, they’re imperfect parents. From what you’ve told me about your father, it’s clear that he’s got problems. He doesn’t have very good people skills.”
 

I snorted.

“In no way am I excusing anything he’s done. He owes you an apology and a whole lot more. But I don’t believe that he doesn’t love you. He’s just not very good at showing it.”

“You’re being too easy on him.”

“I want to wring his neck,” Corbin said. “But he’s your father, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he regrets how he handled things.”
 

We were pulling up to a well-lit and trim building. It was a little too large to be a house, but the manicured evergreen bushes that lined it, the plowed drive—it felt homey, if not a home.

“Where are we?”

“Bed and breakfast,” he said.
 

“Good.” I unfastened my seatbelt. “It’s too late for you to be driving.”

Corbin’s laugh suggested he knew
exactly
why I was excited. I told myself he’d only assume that if he was thinking along the same lines. But with Corbin, it was impossible to know for sure.

The owners, a married couple in their early sixties, gave us a tour of the property. There was a bar—tended by the husband, and we should ring a bell if we wanted anything between five and midnight and he was unavailable. Since it was almost midnight already, I predicted we wouldn’t be getting a drink.

I had never stayed at a bed and breakfast before, but it wasn’t quite what I’d expected. There were probably two dozen rooms in the sprawling building. The breakfast dining room had enough tables to accommodate everyone.
 

Half hotel, half home.