Does She Dare?

DOES SHE DARE?

Tawny Weber

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

MILLS & BOON

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To my incredible critique partners Beth and

Sheila—thanks for holding my hand.

To Karin and Poppy for the challenge,

to Trish for “ishing,” and Kimmi for advising

the best use of a pool table—I couldn’t have

done it without any of you!

In loving memory of two beautiful souls who

believed so much in my ability to do anything I set

my mind to:

My Grampa, who really could do anything.

And Carol, an inspiration of strength and love.

I miss you both so much.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Prologue

Ten Years Before

“WE DARE YOU TO KISS the baddest boy at Western High,” Suzi said, wicked glee coating her words.

Isabel Santos dug her heels into the grass to keep herself from running away. Kiss some strange boy, and a bad one at that? Were they crazy? What the hell had she been thinking?

“You want to play with the big girls,” Suzi continued, “you’ve got to prove you’ve got what it takes.”

“That’s the rule,” Isabel’s best friend, Audra, explained in a soft, slightly apologetic tone. “If you hang with the Wicked Chicks, you have to prove you can handle it by taking a dare.”

Isabel shot her a look that said duh. But inside she was shaking. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to be a Wicked Chick. It was more that Audra was in the club. And Isabel felt left out. Thanks to uptight, overprotective parents, Isabel now attended an all-girls private school and hardly ever saw her friend anymore. Lately, all Audra talked about was the Chicks and what they’d done, or who they’d done. Wild times, apparently. Not that Isabel was the wild type; she really was more content daydreaming than partying and chasing boys. But she wanted to belong. So she’d lied to her parents—told them she was spending the night at a friend’s since they didn’t approve of Audra anymore—and snuck out.

“I can handle a dare,” she vowed with a lift of her chin. She tried to push out her chest, too, but that was just depressing. The Chicks were all busty, definitely way ahead of her in the development department, as proven by the boobs overflowing their low-cut tops. When she made it into the club, she’d have to get a new bra.

She looked around the party. The moonlit backyard was filled with bodies gyrating to the bubblegum beat of pop music blasting from someone’s boom box.

Her eyes stuck on the guy in chains and leather with greasy hair and a mean look. He looked bad, all right, as in smelly bad. Could she do this? She swallowed and pulled back her shoulders. Yes, she could. She was sixteen, not six. She’d planned it all out. If she wanted to hang out with her best friend more often, she’d have to be a part of the club. She pressed a hand against her churning stomach. Even if it meant kissing smelly guys.

“Who’s the baddest boy?” she asked.

“Dante Luciano,” Audra, Suzi and the third Chick, Bea, declared in chorus.

Her churning stomach almost jumped out of her throat. Oh no. She shook her head. Not Dante Luciano. They even talked about him at her school. Usually in whispers, of course.

She’d heard he was hell on wheels. He’d done more girls and drank more booze than a rock star. Everything from vandalism to public brawls. If he was even half as bad as his reputation, she was better off with the stinky guy.

“He’s the dare,” Bea insisted. Her red pigtails waved in concert with her adamant nod. The pigtails went with the naughty-schoolgirl outfit, Isabel supposed. “Being wicked isn’t just being wild, it’s being brave. Attitude is everything, you know.”

“I don’t even know what he looks like,” she answered in a faint voice. Like it mattered. She’d made a plan, she was sticking with it. She could hold her breath for the thirty seconds it would take to kiss and run.

Audra pointed across the lawn to a group of guys doing keg stands. “The one in jeans and black T-shirt.”

Her heart did jumping jacks. She’d never seen anything—anyone—so beautiful.

“Wow,” she gasped.

Suzi and Bea laughed.

Tall and leanly muscled, he had a body like one of the Greek gods she’d studied. His black hair curled over his forehead, falling in loose waves to his shoulders. She’d only known boys. Dante was very obviously a man. Her eyes traced the wide set of his tanned biceps—rumor had it from working construction after school for his father. What would it feel like to touch him? To feel that smooth skin under her fingers? Her breath caught at the image.

She’d never understood the fuss over sex. Sure, guys were cute, some really cute. But to want to rub her hands all over one? To want to press her lips to his shoulder just to taste his skin? Until this moment, she’d had no clue. But now? She wanted to do some fussing herself.

She had no clue what she’d say to him. How did they think she could kiss him? What was she supposed to do? Isabel’s vision wavered as fear nipped at the edges of her awareness. Did she introduce herself and ask for a kiss? Just walk up and plant one on him? Did he have to kiss her back? Questions raced at a frantic pace through her head.

She shot Audra a panicked look, but her friend just shrugged. A look of worry, combined with doubt, lurked in the other girl’s heavily lined eyes.

“You don’t have to take the dare,” Audra murmured.

If she wanted to be in their club, she did. She eyed Dante again, odd sensations zinging around in a wild, tempting dance in her belly. She really did want to kiss him. Suddenly, the dare was simply an excuse.

With a quick squeeze of Audra’s hand, she made her way across the lawn. Moonlight flicked in and out of the trees, adding to the surreal feeling inside her.

She had no idea what to do. Her brain was on autopilot. Even the questions and panic were gone now; all she knew was she had to kiss Dante Luciano. She started to move forward, but another guy stepped between them.

“Dude, you’re out of booze.”

Dante slipped his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Moonlight sparked off the small metal key. “Here, hit my dad’s liquor cabinet. He’s got plenty.”

With a start, Isabel realized this was Dante’s house. Her breath hitched. He really was bad.

“Real nice of your dad to share.” His buddy grinned.

“Right. Like he shared his truck,” Dante said with a smirk. “You gotta help me get it out of that ditch tomorrow.”

Even his voice was sexy. Low, husky and filled with what she imagined sin sounded like. Dante Luciano had the worst reputation in the county. Even Audra, who was a known hell-raiser herself, was in awe of how much trouble he stirred up.

“Looks like someone’s waiting for you,” the guy said, his laugh a little mean this time. It took Isabel a few seconds to realize he meant her. At their stares, her cheeks flamed and she would have turned away except the look on Dante’s face had her rooted in place. She barely noticed his friend snicker and stalk off.

“Hey there,” Dante said with a slow grin. The world ground to a slow halt around her.

“Hi,” Isabel squeaked after a few gulps. Her heart raced so fast, she worried it was going to fly out of her chest. When he beckoned her closer, she tamped down a hysterical giggle and stepped forward until she was near enough, for the first time, to stare into his eyes. They were vivid green, like the emeralds in her mother’s anniversary band.

Maybe his gaze was cloudy with an alcohol haze and he was swaying more than the trees, but Isabel didn’t care. If only she could think of something to say.

He reached out and flicked one of her curls, then let his finger trace over her shoulder. Isabel’s nipples hardened. Something intense, damp and sticky, tightened deep in her belly. She didn’t know what was going on inside her body, but it felt good. In a scary, confusing kind of way. What should she do? Should she touch him? Should she say something? Her mind, already fogged with nerves, shut down at his touch.

Which was fine with her body. It had plenty going on.

“As the host of this little get-together,” he said, his hand now tangled in her hair, “it’s my duty to welcome you to the party. My momma insists I be polite, you know.”

His idea of welcome was friendlier than a handshake, Isabel realized, when, with his hand still in her hair, he pulled her against his body.

Her gasp was lost in his mouth. Her hands curled into the smooth delight of his chest as he took advantage of her shock to slip his tongue between her lips. Terrified pleasure filled her. Romantic notions of love-at-first-kiss filled her head, tangled with the incomplete images of dark, forbidden touches.

She’d been kissed before, but never like this. Dante’s mouth was pure magic. Soft and sweet, his tongue danced along hers. Something wild, something intense coiled low in her belly. Isabel shifted, trying to find relief, trying to figure out what to do about the power of the feeling.

When his hand cupped her breast, she gasped. Not able to help herself, she pulled back.

He laughed. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?”

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked, her tone as soft as the night air. She’d screwed up. Ruined it. Tears filled her eyes as emotions she didn’t understand gripped her.

He flashed a half-smile, then brushed his finger over the strap of her tank top. “It’s not bad. I’ll bet you taste as sweet as you look…everywhere. Like a ripe, fresh-picked peach.”

The image of his mouth on her—licking, tasting—stopped Isabel’s breath. Like the scariest ride at the amusement park, she wanted to try it. But at the same time she was terrified. Torn between desire and fear, she stared up at him.

“Dante?”

They both glanced at the redhead standing to the side. Her heavily made-up eyes slid over Isabel in instant dismissal.

“Dance?” she said to Dante, her hand tracing down her throat, over her plump breast, then to her hip.

“Sweet,” Dante repeated, giving Isabel a look so hot, she swore she felt her heart melt. He leaned forward again to brush a soft kiss over her cheek. “But I don’t do good girls.”

A minute later, Isabel blinked back the tears as Dante swayed to “As Long As You Love Me,” with the redhead wrapped around him like plastic wrap. From the looks of her, that girl would definitely know how to handle Dante. When the girl’s hand slid down the back of his jeans, Isabel clenched her jaw and turned away. She couldn’t watch.

She scanned the couples curled up on loungers or lying together on the lawn. She wanted to—had to—get out of there, but she didn’t see Audra. She hurried inside. As she reached the door, a kid ran through, almost knocking her on her butt.

“Parents! Cops!” he yelled. “Run.”

Panic seized her. Couples shot apart and flew left and right. Cops? Oh, shit.

A half hour later, she sat in the Luciano’s living room, listening to the policeman lecture her and the dozen other kids who hadn’t escaped into the woods. This was definitely bad.

Her parents were going to kill her. And worse, be disappointed. She’d never let them down, never given them a single reason to lecture her. Panic flitted, inky black, at the edges of her awareness. The only thing keeping Isabel from sobbing was the fear that if she did, she’d throw up.

Dammit, what had she gotten herself into? She didn’t belong here. Her response to Dante proved that. She was just a kid, definitely not ready for the big leagues. Suzi leaned over and nudged her. Apparently, Audra had managed to escape, just like Dante and most of the others.

“Hey, I’d say you made it. Busted like a Wicked Chick, huh?” From the grin on Suzi’s face, she wasn’t afraid. Unlike Isabel, who was sure this was her last night on earth.

With a weak smile, Isabel slid down the worn fabric of the couch. Maybe she should have planned this better. Blinking back tears she realized she didn’t want to be wicked. The only thing she wanted now was Dante Luciano.

1

“I NEED A REAL MAN,” Isabel Santos decided. She shot a bleary look across the table at her best friend, then squinted to take in the rest of the cozy Italian restaurant. Although she and Audra were still seated, there were a few couples on the dance floor, swaying to the soft rock music.

At half past eleven in the evening, the only men left were a pair of waiters who were obviously into each other, a teenaged busboy and the cook. Considering the pasta had been overdone, Isabel crossed him off her potential list.

“I have to admit, a man would have been a more imaginative birthday gift than the nightie I gave you,” her friend mused, snagging Isabel’s attention back from her useless hunk-search. “But I wasn’t sure what size you were in the market for.”

Isabel snickered.

“It’s not the size that matters, it’s the quality,” she insisted, careful to enunciate her words through the fog of wine curling through her head. She really should have quit at one glass, but she’d been so bummed over being dumped, turning another year older and discovering she was as desirable as a dried-up prune, she’d ordered a second. Then a third. “I need a real man. A hot, sexy man. The kind that makes a girl squirm, but doesn’t require conversation and pampering. You know, a stud.”

Audra Walker-Martinez, Isabel’s oldest friend, was probably the only person in the world who she’d feel comfortable saying that to. Then again, Audra was an expert on hot, sexy men.

“I’m all for you taking on a hot guy, especially now that you’ve dumped that pansy boy you were dating. But maybe we should wait until you’re—”

“I didn’t dump Lance. He dumped me.” Isabel sneered, her voice rising as she warmed to the subject. “He was lousy in bed. But no matter how many times I tell myself it’s no loss, I still feel like I got ripped off. I’m twenty-six, Audra. The years I should have spent exploring my sexuality, living out my wild fantasies, they’ve passed me by. I can’t afford to wait any longer.”

Cringing, her face going flame-red at the cook’s disapproving stare and the grins of the waiters, Isabel stopped her rant to suck in a deep breath.

Audra lifted one brow and pursed her lips. “I had been about to suggest we wait till you were sober to make a man plan, but hey, we can start now.”

Man plan? Isabel giggled at the absurd idea, then her laughter fell away. Well why not? Before taking on any new venture, the first thing she did was sit down and make a plan. Business plans, life plans, weight-loss plans. Damned if most of them hadn’t all worked. So why wouldn’t a man plan?

“I want the ultimate fantasy plan,” she mused as she hauled her suede hobo bag up to the table and started digging through it. “Something with a limited time frame, you know? I mean, I have such a tight schedule trying to get the new store up and running, I can’t have a bunch of distractions right now.”

Isabel found her ever-present notepad, flipped to a clean page, and chose a pen—red for passion, of course.

“Okay, first step is to define the goal. Sex is a little too broad, don’t ya think?” Isabel tapped the pen against her bottom lip. “Hot sex is better, but still not right. What d’ya think? Fling? Affair? Boy toy? Bootie call?”

She glanced up to see Audra grimace. “What?”

“Nothing,” Audra denied. At Isabel’s pointed look, she shrugged. “It’s just…well, this isn’t you. I mean, the plan part, that’s all you. Goal setting, control, you’ve got a firm handle on those. But to make a plan specifically targeted at snagging you some emotionless, string-free, temporary sex? That’s the wine talking.”

“Nope.” Isabel shook her head so hard, her curls flew. “I had a fling once. I can totally do it again.”

“That fling was a failure, remember? The liar was married and didn’t tell you. You were a mess for months afterward.”

Isabel wrinkled her nose and tried to shrug like it hadn’t mattered. She had been a mess. Not heartbroken, although she’d felt like she should be. But angry and betrayed. The worst of the anger had been aimed at herself, though. She’d given into the romance of being swept off her feet by a sexy guy. She’d been so enamored with all her romantic notions, she’d ignored the warning signs. Separated. And she’d found out from his wife, who thought they were trying to work things out.

The worst part? The jerk had never seen anything wrong with lying to her. To him, as long as he and his wife had different addresses, he was free to do whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter that Isabel’s idea of free was completely different.

But that had been two years ago, before she’d discovered the power of control. A weekend goal seminar had taught her all about it. Since control was already one of Isabel’s favorite things, the seminar had been like finding heaven. All the tools she needed to shift from being a woman who doodled plans and wishes with minimal success to a take-charge business entrepreneur with a solid business plan and a firm handle on her life’s direction.

So why not apply the same principles in order to get a rocking sex life?

All she had to do was make this man plan and stick to it. As long as she did that, life couldn’t fall apart on her again. Now that she thought about it, that must’ve been the problem with her relationships in the past, especially with Lance. No plan, no goal. She’d just floated along, letting the guy set the tone for the relationship. Oh, sure, she’d hoped he’d be the one. But hoping wasn’t planning. It just went to show, the one area of her life she’d left to fate was her love life, and fate kicked her in the ass.

Nope. Outlining her exact wants and needs, then setting specific goals worked pretty well for everything else. She just had to apply it here, to her love life. Or, she corrected with a naughty little smile, what she’d soon make her love life.

“I want hot sex,” she insisted, now that she’d made up her mind. The busboy, clearing glasses from a neighboring table, shot them a startled look. Audra gave him a wink. He blushed and scurried away before Isabel could order another glass of wine.

Isabel rolled her eyes. Audra winked and made guys run—to and away from her. Isabel still hadn’t quite figured out how to get a guy’s undivided attention…or what she’d do with it once she had it.

As usual, watching Audra made her painfully aware of their differences. Audra could pull off that flirty, spontaneous thing. Isabel worried so much about looking stupid, about failing, that she avoided spontaneity whenever possible.

Not that she had self-esteem issues, really. She knew she was pretty, if in a cutesy way with her shoulder-length, dark curls. Audra, on the other hand, wore her hair short and spiky, the midnight-black tipped in magenta.

Their outer personalities were just as different. Audra being all edgy and wild, where Isabel was known as a good girl.

Inside they were more alike that most people would believe. Not only in their insecurities, but in their drive to have more for themselves than they’d had as kids living next door to each other. Audra’d created a career for herself as a lingerie designer, and Isabel who had started her florist career in her parents’ shop was on the brink of kicking off the next phase of her career plan with an innovative new florist shop. Finally, something completely on her own, a venture that would prove to she was a success.

And now she’d apply that planning savvy to the dismal emptiness that was her love life. Between excitement and the wine, it was all Isabel could do not to clap her hands together in excitement. This man plan was going to rock.

“C’mon, quit scaring little boys,” she insisted. “Help me here. Consider it my birthday gift.”

“I gave you a silk nightgown,” Audra reminded her, even as she slid the notebook and pen out of Isabel’s hands.

“Yeah, but the rest of the gift can be a guy to wear the nightgown for. Your designs deserve an audience, right? Help me get one.”

A small, sober voice in Isabel’s head pointed out that she sounded desperate and needy. It wasn’t like she was a troll with no prospects. But she knew she was the kind of gal who drew in nice guys. The ones who paid more attention to their stock portfolio and cholesterol levels than they did to mind-blowing physical satisfaction.

Take Lance, for instance. Oh, he was fine on the surface. Good-looking, smart and ambitious. But sex with him was like eating Chinese food. She’d been fulfilled in the moment, but a half hour later she’d felt unsatisfied and puzzled as to why.

“Okay, consider this my gift to you, part two,” Audra agreed. She sketched a few words on the page. “Let’s start with the basics. You want hot sex. What turns you on? What’re your fantasies?”

“Rules first. Before I get to the sex, I need the guidelines firmly established,” Isabel insisted.

Never one for rules, Audra just rolled her eyes. But she wrote the numbers one through three on the page anyhow.

“Only three?”

“Too many rules just get in the way. This is it, all you get.” She tapped the pen on the page, then raised a brow, as if to ask well?

“Okay, number one—I’m in control. I want to call the shots in this relationship instead of being the one following along like an enthusiastic puppy.”

Audra nodded and wrote that down.

“Number two—once you’re committed to the plan, you can’t second-guess yourself,” Audra declared. “It’s all or nothing. I know you, if you start second-guessing, you’ll back out before you even get started.”

“Fine,” Isabel agreed with a huff. She thought, then poked at the paper. “Number three—no silly ideas about falling in love. It’s just sex. Wild, insanely passionate sex.”

“That’s a given,” Audra argued. “Why waste a rule on that?”

“Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything,” Isabel said, only half-lying, “but I think with the right guy, if the sex is so excellent and wonderful, it’d be easy to fool yourself into believing it’s all romantic. Like love-at-first-kiss.”

Audra rolled her eyes, but wrote it down anyway. “Okay, let’s get to the fantasies.”

“I said I wanted a hot, sexy man,” Isabel reminded her meticulously.

“A hot sexy man isn’t gonna do you any good if he’s not pushing the right buttons. Any dork can be the hottest sex you’ve ever had if he’s tapping into your fantasy.”

Isabel considered, then dismissed that theory. She wanted a hot sexy man, not a talented dork. The fantasy angle had potential though.

“How do I make a fantasy list?”

“Think of the hottest guy you’ve ever seen. Real life, movie, whatever. What guy out there, just by thinking about him, gets you hot?”

She didn’t even have to consider it. All she had to do was close her eyes and a face flashed into her mind. Unruly dark hair, vivid green eyes and a body to die for. The hottest, sexiest, guy she’d ever met.