My Daring Seduction

She just couldn’t bear it if Denver turned her down. Or worse, if he let her seduce him and then disappeared, or let her seduce him and took over her life. Or—

“Right now you’re going over every possible thing that could go wrong, aren’t you?”

Lindsay laughed unwillingly and nodded at Katie.

“Oh, I was soooo there.”

“I don’t think anything will go wrong. We all saw the way he was looking at you. He’ll jump at the chance to, um, get to know you better.”

The sisters burst out laughing at Brooke’s careful wording.

“What guy wouldn’t?” Joey’s playful words froze Lindsay’s smile. Right. She’d experienced too many guys that would. This time she wanted…

Wait. She wanted to be more than that to Denver? She knew where that led. When she fell for a guy she lost herself, let him run all over her, control her, then he’d leave and break her heart. Only Ty had stayed, but his control had become more and more extreme until it became dangerous.

No feelings could enter into this seduction. The only way she’d survive would be to stay as icily detached as possible. Then if Denver rejected her, whether before or after, it wouldn’t hurt. She’d stay untouched. She had to make sure that sex between them didn’t matter.

Even better, what if the sex really didn’t matter? The dare hadn’t mentioned Denver by name. The sisters assumed, but what if…

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?” Her half sisters leaned eagerly forward.

Lindsay’s mind spun. Would it be a mistake or simply the lesser of two evils? “You know, Justin is actually hotter than Denver. I’ve always thought he was—”

“Oh right.”

“Pleez.”

“Don’t even try.”

She made a face. Okay, so Winfields were too smart to be fooled that easily. The dare had said the man she was most attracted to. Denver might as well be a magnet tuned in for her polarity.

“Lindsay?” Her personal magnet appeared at the curtained doorway and Lindsay’s heart pounded so painfully she nearly winced. “Hey, Brooke, Joey, Katie.”

“Hi-i-i, Den-ver.” The three made his name come out like a singsong grade school chant.

He grinned. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Oh yes.” Brooke got up and sent her sisters significant looks. “We had a great time, didn’t we.”

“A most excellent time. Lindsay will have to tell you all about it.” Katie got up. “Because we’re going home now.”

“Yes, we are. We had tons o’ fun.” Joey blinked demurely at Denver. “But not as much fun as you are go—”

“Thanks for staying.” Lindsay sent Joey a murderous look she knew would make her most outspoken sister laugh. The three women hugged Lindsay with their usual warmth. She managed to hug back, feeling as if she were saying final farewells before her trip to the gallows.

“Relax and have fun,” Brooke whispered. “I think he really cares about you.”

She nodded dumbly. That concept scared her the most. Cared about her how? As a friend? Little sister? Or more…

All of it scared her. Looking back on her life, on the emotional and physical abuse, the fear running away from the only home she’d known, the stupid things she’d done in fast succession after that, all of which had gone horribly wrong, the terror of exposure from Gina for Ty’s death…all that, and she didn’t think she’d ever felt quite this frightened in her life.

Denver waved at the trio and turned back to Lindsay. The firelight flickered over his face making him look strong and dangerous. The room felt suddenly hot and way too small. “Seems like everything went great tonight.”

“Yes. Yes. Amazingly well.” Her voice sounded high and slightly panicked. She suddenly felt as if she had too many hands, and no place to put them. “Thanks for your help.”

“It’s my job, Lindsay.”

“I know, but…well, I mean it doesn’t have to be your job and you do it really well and so I wanted you to know that—” Geez. She might be many things, but babbling fool didn’t usually make the list. “—so I appreciate it.”

“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his eyes, staring unrelentingly. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I have no idea. But you’re acting funny.”

Yeah, she was a laugh riot. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Anything happen? With your sisters?”

Way too much. “Everything’s fine.”

“I see.” He tightened his lips. “And that’s why you look as if you just lost your best friend.”

“Honestly, Denver. I’m fine. My half sisters are fine. Everything is fine.” She waved a hand in exasperation, aware that this was not the most auspicious beginning for a seduction. “I have not lost my best friend.”

But after what had to happen tonight, she was desperately afraid she would.

3

“THANKS. YOU CAN JUST PUT them there.” Lindsay pointed to the corner of the living room in her beautiful two-bedroom apartment upstairs from Chassy. A far cry from any living situation she’d ever had. She couldn’t count the number of couches she’d slept on, the roach-infested tiny rooms she’d shared, the basements she’d crashed in after leaving her parents’ home. As much as that life seemed at times to have been lived by someone else, she still had to remind herself frequently that this beautiful place actually belonged to her.

Scott and Laura Downing, the couple who sold her the building for next to nothing, had been fastidious owners. She hadn’t had to do anything but paint the walls, all of which had been shades of white much too demure for her taste. A strange combination of eagerness and reluctance to put down roots—not to mention spend money—had gotten her about halfway to furnishing the place. Finally she could describe it as spare instead of empty. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

She had to admit the place looked good with Denver in it. She’d lured him up by asking for help carrying boxes of table lamps and pictures left over from when the bar had belonged to the Downings. The boxes weren’t bothering anyone piled at the back of the storeroom downstairs, but she had to entice Denver up on some pretext and she wasn’t going to suggest etchings.

Her first plan had been to jump him downstairs and get it over with, but she’d never be able to behave normally at work if the desk or table or chair they were near held such an erotic connotation.

Better up here or maybe in the guest room, which Scott and Laura had left furnished since their condo in Naples was one bedroom smaller. Or perhaps on the new couch in the living room where she’d ask him to sit. She rarely went into the guest room, which made it a good choice. However, the couch didn’t invite long-term occupancy the way a bed did.

Okay. The couch.

So. On with the show. She could fake it, of course, have Denver go back downstairs with nothing more than a friendly g’bye and tell her half sisters and the rest of the girls that they’d been at it all night long, but lying wasn’t her thing. Brooke, Joey and Katie would be on to her in a heartbeat once they started demanding details. In any case, her newfound sense of honor and her enjoyment of the whole Martinis and Bikinis concept wouldn’t let her get away with that for long.

Best just to go for the kill. Close her eyes and think of Boston. The only way she’d get through the seduction of Denver Langston intact was by not allowing herself to care. Nothing good had ever come from her letting down her guard with men. Nothing.

“All set.” He straightened, having set the box next to her most recent acquisition, the burgundy microfiber couch. It had cost way too much but made a fabulous accent in front of the dark orangey-yellow wall. The perfect place to get down and dirty for a quick half hour or so.

“Great, thank you.” Three…two…one… “Would you like a drink, Denver?”

Blast off.

Her words—maybe her pointed use of his name—made his eyes jump from the rack of DVDs he’d been examining to hers. “A drink?”

She took in a breath and forced herself to stay calm. Justin thought she had ice surrounding her? How about Antarctica? “Yes, drink. Glass containing liquid, preferably alcoholic, intended to be consumed orally.”

He chuckled and put his hands on his hips in that manly-man way he did. “I’d love a drink. Whadya got?”

“Most everything.”

He narrowed his eyes, challenging. “Irish whiskey?”

“Jameson’s?”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“Yes.” She held his gaze for a sensual beat. “I am.”

She knew without looking at him that his eyes followed her to the built-in cabinet that housed her meager supply of rarely touched booze. Already he’d noticed the change and was wondering what was going on.

Before she opened the cabinet, she kicked out of her shoes and took off her black sweater, exposing a black short-sleeved top that hung just to the waistband of her black pants. The next layer would come off soon. Then the next. After that, no more layers.

“Water? Ice? Straight up?”

“Straight up.”

She poured him two fingers of Jameson’s and one for herself, noting with irony the company’s motto, Sine Metu, which Justin had once explained to her meant “Without Fear.”

“Cheers.” She handed Denver his drink without fear, clinked with him and took a sip, enjoying the rare treat. She still liked the taste of alcohol, but no longer wanted to tangle with its effects.

“Want to sit?” She pointed to the couch and sat at one end, leaning back against the arm. “Thanks again for your help tonight.”

“You’re welcome. How did Natalie like her dare?”

“She…took it fine. Of course she was embarrassed. I can tell she really wants this guy she works out with. And when a woman wants a man, I think she should go after him.” She tipped her head to one side and took the elastic out of her ponytail so her long hair swung free. “Don’t you think?”

Again the narrow-eyed gaze. “Depends.”

She straightened and made a show of tossing the hair back from her face. He was watching every move she made. Intently. She found herself both excited by what she had to do and dismayed by how it could affect their friendship. She tried as hard as she could to suppress any signs of that conflict. Keep it easy, purely sexual. She’d done that routine many times before. Too many to be proud of. “Depends on what?”

“What she’s up to.” He gestured slightly toward her with his drink. “And why.”

Lindsay faltered for a second, then gave a careless shrug. “What she’s up to is getting the guy. Why is obvious. She’s attracted to him. Wants him. Lusts.”

The tiniest compression of his lips before he spoke. “I guess it can be that simple.”

But it’s usually not, was the unspoken ending to his sentence and she was starting to think he wasn’t talking about Natalie and her lab partner any more than she was.

“What kind of dare would you choose for me?”

He frowned, not the reaction she’d hoped for. “That’s easy. I’d dare you to tell me what you’re doing right now.”

She gave him a sultry smile to hide her uneasiness. “Right now? Talking to you.”

He didn’t smile back. “Okay.”

What had she expected? That a perceptive guy like Denver wouldn’t think it was odd when her entire personality changed in the course of an hour?

Damn it. She wanted this whole night back to do over. She could catch her half sisters in the act of swapping dare slips and instead have been able to send Tanya home with a stomach full of butterflies over what she’d have to do the next day when her science guy showed up to work.

Still…she had to get this done. Get the seduction over with and get back to life as usual, if God would grant her that luxury after what she was about to perpetrate. “So…Denver.”

“So…Lindsay.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you and I did something…” She pulled at the hem of her shirt until it came off over her head. She made herself appear relaxed again, wearing only a black cotton camisole. “…about what’s between us?”

He froze, one, two, three seconds, then his eyes wandered over her bare arms, down over her breasts, half exposed by the low thin material, and back up to her face. The tension was so thick that she shuddered when he put his drink down on her coffee table. Which left his hands free. Didn’t it.

Would he take the lead now? Take her hard and fast, then say thanks, babe, it was great, and let’s do it again sometime and good night?

A girl could only hope…

He didn’t. He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned against the back of the couch, eyes narrowed. If this was a movie, he’d be about to say, “make my day.”

“Is that a no?”

He shook his head, his gaze pinning her so that she had to force herself not to squirm guiltily. Not a no. Which meant it was a yes?

She didn’t know whether she felt relief or not.

“Mmm, good.” She put her hand on the iron of his thigh and started a slow path toward where it counted, getting more and more jittery when he just sat there, staring at her.

Okay. Fine. Whatever he was into, she’d make it work. She’d probably encountered just about every kind of guy out there along the tortured, unhappy path she’d chosen to walk before Ty’s death, and done just about everything there was to do at least once. He couldn’t surprise her.

She let her hand linger near his fly and was rewarded with instant swelling between his legs. To her surprise, she reacted nearly as strongly, arousal starting a low burn between hers.

Down, girl. Keep it under control.

“You like this?”

“Yes.” The syllable was curt; he still hadn’t moved otherwise. But as long as he wasn’t objecting…

“How about this?” Her palm moved over the long, narrow bulge in his jeans. She took in a sharp breath, unprepared for her own reaction, though she’d anticipated his. Stroking him gently up and down, she leaned forward, dipping one shoulder so her strap would slide off and her hair would make a solid curtain behind her profile.

His hips moved up slightly; his breathing became audible. Her arousal matched his pace, maybe because it had been a long time for her. She unsnapped his jeans, drew the zipper down more hurriedly than she’d intended, dipped her hand in to savor his warmth and his hardness through his black cotton briefs.

“Lindsay.” His voice was husky.

“Mmm?” She bent down and kissed his erection, her lips lingering.

“Why are you doing this?”

She tugged his jeans down, reached for the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down to expose him. He was beautiful. Thick and long and tipped faintly pink. Her hunger grew. “Because I want you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“I have figured it out. What I haven’t figured out is why tonight.”

“You know a better time?” She pressed her face against his length, inhaled his scent, then opened her mouth and slid it along his erection aiming for the tip to take him fully into her—

He grabbed her shoulders and had her half lying across the back of the couch under him so quickly that she couldn’t control her terror reaction, and heard herself make the choked cry she hadn’t had to let out in a long time.

“Where is this coming from, Lindsay?”

She swallowed the thickness in her throat, telling herself over and over that this was Denver, this was different, he was emotional not dangerous, confused not enraged until the urge to plead for mercy left her and she could feel as impassive as she was struggling to appear. “What are you talking about?”

“Months, Lindsay. Months of dancing around this, avoiding me, shutting me out, and now suddenly you’re all hot to give me a blow job? What the hell happened?”

“I thought…you’d like it.”

“Geezus, Lindsay. Of course I’d like it. I’m a guy. But I think we skipped a few parts of this equation. Like spending time together first—you wouldn’t even come swimming with me. Like talking about something other than work. Or…” His voice dropped lower; he fixed his gaze on her mouth. “…like kissing.”

No. Not kissing. Not sweetness. Not affection. No feeling. She made another desperate sound and threw herself to the opposite end of the couch, arms crossed around her chest.

“What the—” He held his hands up, surrendering.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could have messed this up more, but she didn’t think so. Why couldn’t he just let her show him a good time? Why did he have to make this about anything except screwing her so she could fulfill her dare?

“I’m sorry.” She sat up ramrod straight, the way she had refused to do during adolescence for her furious mom. “This was not a good idea. I knew it wasn’t, but I—”

“Lindsay.” His voice was slow, gentle, talking nicey-nice to the completely insane woman. She didn’t blame him. “Let’s get back to our whiskey. Back to talking. Back to normal. Tomorrow you can come swimming with me after work or I’ll come up here again or I’ll take you to lunch one day before work. Maybe a lot of days, maybe one or two late night dinners and we’ll see what happens. Let this go more naturally and a lot slower.”

She bit her lip. How the hell was she supposed to tell him that was the last thing she wanted to do?

Or…maybe next to last. Or maybe…

It couldn’t happen. He was talking relationship and all she could handle in her life right now was sex. If it wasn’t for the dare, she wouldn’t even choose to handle that.

“I’m sorry, Denver. It’s not like that. I was just looking to get laid and I thought you were too. You were nice enough to help me bring the boxes up here, you were looking really good, I was horny and I thought maybe you’d be up for it. But the whole sweetheart dating, kissing thing? No. Sorry. Not a good plan. Not for me.”

She finished, pretty pleased with herself. Guys understood the need to get laid. He’d get it. She’d be off the hook and they could get back to—

“Why not?”

Her pleasure started to evaporate. “Why not what?”

“Why isn’t the ‘whole sweetheart dating, kissing thing’ a good idea?”

Crap. He had that look back, the one where he thought he already knew the answer but just wanted to go through the formality of having her say it out loud. Maybe men thought acting as though they knew you better than you did was sexy. She had to mark it down as one of the most irritating characteristics they possessed.

“Because…” Her mind failed. She couldn’t come up with a single reason, especially not with him sitting in her living room with his pants undone, firm skin showing at his abdomen, a slight flush to his cheeks, eyes intently dark, handsome and so damn noble. “It’s not what I want.”

“Ah. Okay, then.” He got up abruptly and the force of the pain squeezing into her chest startled her. “It is what I want so until one of us changes his or her mind I guess this isn’t going to happen, huh.”

His tone was offhand, but his look said he was asking her a question, not making a statement.

“Right.” She nodded, wishing he’d leave so she could throw herself onto her bed and let this new troubling misery have its way with her. What had she done here? What had she unleashed? She should have followed her instincts and refused to take a dare. Everything was going so well before this…

Still she couldn’t have gone back on the dare without undermining the organization that had done so much not only to empower its members but for her as well. How else could she have met and become friendly with so many strong, interesting women? Her acquaintances prior to this had been pretty unappealing. Now she felt part of a community that had more on its mind than sex, drugs and rebellion.

More importantly, how else could she have gracefully and anonymously made contact with her half sisters? One invitation sent out to each of them last September had been the perfect way to introduce them to her, though only Katie took her up on joining at first. Bottom line, she’d had no choice but to accept the dare. Now she was paying a price. Another one.

Denver put his pants back together, drained the rest of his drink and took the glass and hers into the kitchen like the good bar manager he was.

At the door he turned, gaze probing again, asking her the question that must be going through his head. What the hell had happened to make her suddenly act the way she did? Was she that disturbed? “Good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Lindsay nodded and managed a smile. “Good night.”

She closed the door after him. Maybe he’d give up now. Maybe he’d decide she was some kind of lunatic and give up and leave her alone.

The thought sucked her into a whirlpool of loneliness and fear. What would her life be without Denver’s constant support and concern? The support and concern she regularly stepped on and rejected and only now realized how much she relied on?

She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes.

And what the hell was she going to do about the dare?

4

DENVER TOSSED BACK WHAT he knew should be his last shot of tequila. Except he knew the shot before should have definitely been the last one and the one before that certainly should have been the last one too. Hell, he shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Vito’s Pub, a ridiculous name if ever there was one. The kind of place that stayed open too late for pathetic drunks.

Like ohhhh, saaaay…him.

He hadn’t tied one on like this since the night he broke off his engagement to Jenna. Every second of that horrible conversation would linger in his mind until the day he died—her tears, her begging, the stabbing guilt. Then her abrupt transition into rage and accusations, mostly unfounded, though a few had hit their mark. He remembered every second of his trip back to New Haven on the train, then his cab ride from the station to Naples, the Yale campus bar. After that, things got blurry fast. The next morning he’d woken up naked on the bathroom floor of his dorm with no memory of how he’d gotten there. That had seemed like a pretty good time to decide he’d done enough drinking to last him a lifetime. After that it had been no more than two drinks, no matter what, no matter where, no matter who with. Or with whom. Or who whatever.

Until tonight. See how much goodness and joy Lindsay Beckham had brought into his life? Exactly…none. Nothing but frustration, emotionally, sexually…whatever other lys there were that he couldn’t think of right now.

No more. Enough. He was finished. Done. Operation Lindsay was terminated. She could stay icy and shut down forever. The next day he’d turn in his resignation at Chassy. And why did she call it that anyway? Screw it. Screw her. Or rather no, no screwing her.

That thought hurt too.

He was disgusted with himself for spending a whole year of sniveling after her over and over again. Please open up to me, Lindsay. Please tell me your problems. Tonight was the worst. “I can’t have sex without emotion, Lindsay. Kiss me first, tell me you love me…”

That was it. He was turning into a girlie-man. No, she was turning him into a girlie-man. If he was going to do that, he might as well become gay so he wouldn’t have to deal with women at all anymore.

Crap. He needed to go home. No, he needed a cold swim. He was losing it.

He got up unsteadily and paid for his drinks, staggered in the doorway and caught his shoulder hard on the jamb. Maybe driving wasn’t a great idea. He’d leave his car here and cab it out to Brookline.

Half an hour later, he’d managed to hail a cab, remember his parents’ address, pay the driver and make his way through frosty air that smelled like snow to the Robinsons, next door to the small house his parents had moved into after he left home. They’d wanted to keep a residence in Massachusetts but intended to spend most of their time traveling the world. Which they had. They’d be back in March from their year in Paris, London and Greece. By then he’d better have a plan for the rest of his life to avoid being a thirty-five-year-old man who still lived with Mommy and Daddy.