All Through The Night

She risked another quick look up at him, and it was then that he caught a whiff of her perfume, an exotic floral scent he recognized immediately. His mind raced to put a face to the scent, flipping through images of old lovers and even maiden aunts. But one face kept intruding, and it was only then that he realized he’d experienced the scent just that afternoon, when he’d touched Nora Pierce.

Pete leaned over the bar and caught a brief glimpse of her profile, proof positive that beneath the dark wig and artfully applied makeup, the lush red lipstick and kohl-rimmed eyes, lurked none other than Prudence Trueheart. He was tempted to blow her cover right off, but she was trying so hard to avoid detection that he decided to play along—at least for a little while.

So there was no Mercedes or Nob Hill party. Then, what had brought Prudence Trueheart to Vic’s? Was she here to police bar etiquette, ready to shut the joint down for the lack of cloth napkins beneath the drinks and silver-plated toothpicks in the olives? Or had she come for the same reason other women came to Vic’s—to meet men? Prudence Trueheart on the make, he mused. The night was about to get interesting.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“May,” she murmured, her voice cool. “May you buy me a drink. And, no, thank you, I have a drink.” She picked up her club soda and took a delicate sip, then forced a smile. “My friend is coming right back.”

“I’ll just sit here until she does,” Pete replied. Had she been any other woman, she might have blown him off with an acidic phrase or an arctic look. Instead, she gives him a grammar lesson. He grinned and slid onto the stool next to her. A gentleman might have taken the hint and retreated. But Pete Beckett wasn’t going anywhere.

His gaze drifted along her body. The dress hugged every delicious curve, clinging to perfect breasts and a tiny waist, and making his palms itch to touch her again. There was only one reason Prudence Trueheart would slip into a slinky little number like that. She was out to seduce—or be seduced. And his appearance had just thrown a wrench into the works. Pete frowned. And what the hell was with the wig? He preferred her hair the way it was, pale gold and filled with light and framing her pretty features.

“I should go find my friend,” she said in a breathless tone. She grabbed her purse and slid off her bar stool, but he reached out and took her wrist, stopping her escape. Her skin felt like warm silk beneath his fingers, the sensation of touching her again sending a flash of heat through his body so intense it made his head swim. He wondered what it might feel like to let his hands just wander, to make her breath quicken and her pulse race, to press his palms into the soft flesh of her breasts and to span her waist with both his hands. Already, the feel of her skin had been imprinted on his brain, and he craved more, like an addiction that wouldn’t go away.

“Don’t,” he murmured. “Stay and have a drink with me. Just one drink.”

He thought she’d refuse, but then she looked him squarely in the eyes and waited for what felt like a long moment. Neither of them said a word; they simply stared as if sizing each other up. And then she released a tightly held breath and resumed her spot next to him. She wasn’t going to admit who she was, Pete realized. Prudence was going to go along with her little game, as long as he did. As far as she was concerned, they were complete strangers.

Pete had played more than his share of games with women, both in bed and out. Head games or bed games, he’d become quite adept at both. Then why did he feel so clueless now? Maybe because Nora Pierce didn’t seem to be the type to engage in risky flirtations with strange men. But then, he wasn’t a stranger, was he. Maybe he was just an available patsy, an unsuspecting dope who was about to get dumped, all for a tale that could be told over the office water cooler. This could all be payback for the black eye.

Pete cursed silently and raked his hand through his hair. Well, two could play at her little game. As long as it meant he could spend a few more minutes with her, he’d just play along. He motioned the bartender over. “Champagne,” he said. “Your best.”

Nora sent him a questioning look. “Champagne?”

“I’m having a drink with the most beautiful woman in this place. I think champagne is in order, don’t you?”

Her gaze fixed on her wrist where his fingers still rested. “There are a lot of beautiful women in this place,” she said, pulling away.

Pete glanced around. “Yeah, I guess there are.” The bartender popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and poured them both a glass. Pete picked up a flute and handed it to Nora. “But none more beautiful than you.”

That brought a reluctant smile, as she took a sip of her champagne. “With a line like that line, maybe I should invest in champagne futures.”

“Naw,” Pete teased. “There wouldn’t be much money in it. I gave up women a few months back.”

She gave him a suspicious look, leveled at him over the rim or the champagne flute. “Then why are you bothering me?”

He reached out and ran a finger slowly down her bare arm. Maybe this little game wasn’t so bad. At least it gave him free rein to touch her whenever he felt the urge. “Believe me, you’re not a bother. In fact, you’re the first woman in nearly a year who has made me regret my decision.”

This time she laughed out loud, tipping her head back and letting loose with a musical giggle as bright as the bubbles that sparkled in her glass. In earlier days, he might have been insulted. But her delight captivated him, and he laughed along with her. Pete set his glass down, then braced his feet on her bar stool, his knees on either side of hers, trapping her in front of him.

Her giggle died in her throat as he stared into her eyes. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Nora Pierce. Not at that moment, not ever. But he knew he’d need to proceed cautiously, because behind the wide eyes and flushed features was a lady playing a dangerous game.

Gently, deliberately, he wove his fingers through hers, then pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “So, why don’t we start with introductions?” he murmured, his words warm against her skin. “My name’s Beckett. Pete Beckett. What’s yours?”

He glanced up at her and sent her a charming grin. The game had begun, and he’d just upped the ante.

NORA TOOK A LONG GULP of her champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose and going right to her head. But no matter how muddled her mind became, one thought screamed from within. Run away, run as fast and as far as you can from this man whose mouth is teasing at the inside of your wrist, whose words have the capacity to render you defenseless—this man who’s demanded to know your name.

Her big night out was supposed to be a simple experiment, a chance to dip her toe into the dating pool without risk of being swept away by the tide. But sitting here next to Pete, she felt as if the water were rushing up around her neck and the currents were threatening to pull her under. She wanted to blurt her name out to the entire bar—Nora Pierce or Prudence Trueheart, what did it matter? This little charade had to end!

But something held her back, a curiosity that needed to be satisfied, an undeniable magnetism that made all common sense vanish. Why not just see where the evening might lead, alter the experiment just a bit? She wasn’t doing too badly. Except for her impromptu grammar lesson, she’d managed to hold her own in conversation without sounding too uptight.

And it felt so good to stand in someone else’s four-inch spike heels, to become the kind of woman she’d never been—sexy, provocative, irresistible. It wasn’t that hard to step outside herself. Besides, she could walk away at any time, couldn’t she? Nora stifled a long sigh. Perhaps that was easier said than done.

It wasn’t the mental aspect of her charade that was so difficult, but the physical reactions she was having to endure. The shock of Pete Beckett turning up beside her had temporarily stolen the breath from her lungs. And then he’d touched her, and her heart had begun to somersault in her chest, beating a crazy rhythm. Every thought in her head became fixed on the mesmerizing way his fingers skimmed over her skin and warmed her blood. At once afraid and exhilarated, she had tried to keep one foot in reality, but she kept slipping into a realm that until now had been pure fantasy.

Why hadn’t he recognized her? Could her disguise be that good? Earlier in the day they’d spoken, come face to face in her office. Surely she couldn’t be that forgettable, could she? Nora brushed aside the notion. He’d had a few too many beers, that was it. Or maybe he hadn’t yet noticed the faint bruise below her eye, barely concealed by her makeup. Or perhaps the thought of Prudence Trueheart hanging out in a sports bar, wearing a black wig and “seduce me” shoes, was inconceivable.

Whatever the cause, she didn’t want these wonderful and alarming sensations to end. A secret thrill shot through her, and she grew more determined to take her pleasure where she could find it—in the suggestive way he looked at her, in her shameless reaction.

“Well?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to tell me? Or do you want me to guess?”

Nora knew the proper etiquette for introductions at any occasion—except when trying to preserve one’s anonymity beneath a sexy disguise while drinking champagne with a handsome co-worker at a bar. A shiver ran up her arm and a moan slipped from her throat. A handsome co-worker who was intent on sucking her fingertips! That one would surely befuddle even Emily Post.

One bit of advice did come to mind. When a lady finds herself in an uncomfortable situation, said lady can always make a polite retreat to the ladies’ room to regroup. She reached for her purse, reluctantly tugging her trembling fingers away and forcing a smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Beckett. But I should go. My friend is probably waiting.”

“Your friend can wait. Why don’t you want to tell me your name?” he asked, his smile seductive, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “Are you married?”

Nora gasped and brushed his hand away. How dare he believe she’d engage in an extramarital flirtation. She’d been brought up better than that! “Of course not,” she said, keeping anger from her voice.

His brow arched teasingly. “Engaged?”

She shook her head.

“Involved?”

Here was her opening, a way to extricate herself from this situation without making fools of them both. She cleared her throat and straightened. “If I said yes, would you leave me alone?”

Pete thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess I wouldn’t have any choice, would I?”

Nora opened her mouth, ready to lie to him. But the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t want him to walk away. She wanted him to stay right where he was, to touch her and tease her until she’d had her fill of him. “No,” she murmured. “I’m not involved with anyone.”

He leaned closer, until his lips were just inches from hers. “Neither am I,” he said. “So I guess we’re both free to…”

Her gaze fixed on his mouth. “Free to…”

His breath was warm on her lips, taunting her with the promise of one stirring, pulse-pounding kiss. “Free to finish our champagne,” he said.

He drew away, leaving her breathless and teetering on the edge of anticipation. A silence grew between them, and her brain scrambled for a topic of conversation to cover her embarrassment. But all she really wanted to discuss was the possibility of his lips meeting hers in the very near future. She grabbed up her champagne glass and gulped down the remaining bubbly. “So, what do you do for a living?” she asked, holding out her glass for a refill. The question was cliché and shallow. Besides that, she already knew the answer. But she wasn’t adept at clever conversation, and with him staring into her face, she couldn’t think straight.

“You have incredible eyes,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, the same way he’d done that morning. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes quite so blue.”

Nora swallowed hard, trying to still the slamming of her heart. How quickly the man forgets, she mused, a trace of anger accompanying the thought. “Oh, I’m sure you have,” she said coyly.

He slowly shook his head. “I would have remembered.” His fingers wandered to her lips, and he ran his thumb along the corner of her mouth. “So, do you like games?”

“Wha-what?” Her voice cracked slightly at the sudden shift in the conversation. Oh, Lord, he was toying with her. All this time, he knew exactly who she was and what she was about, and he was stringing her along! Indignation surged inside her, and she wanted to slap the smirk right off his face.

“Games,” he repeated. He glanced up at the television behind the bar. “Sports. This is a sports bar. People who come here, come here for the games. Are you a baseball fan or do you prefer football?”

Nora coughed to cover her uneasiness. “Oh, no,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m not a big sports fan.”

“Maybe I could teach you,” he said, sliding his hands around her waist. “If you’re really interested.” Gently, he pressed his palm into the small of her back, drawing her closer. “In most games, there’s an offense and a defense.” His voice was barely a whisper, his gaze skimming her face. “And the offense does everything it can to break down the defense and…score.”

Suddenly, their conversation had taken on a different tone, an undeniable sexual challenge pulsing beneath innocent words. With a trembling hand, Nora reached out and ran her fingers through the hair at his nape, startled by her own boldness. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, and she stared at him, watching the pleasure suffuse his expression. Her touch had the power to stir his senses, a man so experienced and so worldly. “Nice play,” he murmured, watching her through hooded eyes. “I see you understand the concept of offense.”

Without another word, he pulled her to her feet, settling her between his legs. She saw a flash of passion in his eyes before his mouth covered hers. She should have been embarrassed to be kissed so brazenly in such a public place. But, instead, she felt wild and uninhibited, completely free of Prudence Trueheart and her stuffy attitudes. She was Nora Pierce again, a woman who could be passionate and spontaneous. A woman who saw what she wanted and kissed it!

Pete’s tongue delved into her mouth, and the last shred of her resistance dissolved in his arms. This was the best part of the game, she mused, as he ran his hands along her body. Tantalizing kisses, wanton behavior, with no thought of who they were or how they should behave.

Gently, and then insistently, he probed until she returned his kiss with equal desire. His hands cupped her face, melding her lips to his until the fit was exquisitely perfect, until she knew the taste of him as intimately as she knew the feel of his hands on her and the heat in his eyes.

She placed her palms on his thighs and rubbed, massaging the hard muscle and the warm flesh beneath the fabric of his khakis. Where had she found the courage to match his passion, to tease him with her own? The rest of the world seemed to recede, the din of the bar fading to a distant hum. Finally, when she was certain she couldn’t go on any longer, he drew back and gave her a lazy grin.

“That wasn’t much of a defense,” he teased. “But the game could be interesting, anyway. Why don’t we get out of here?”

In a daze, she smiled and wound her arms around his neck. She liked the game, the give and take, and the confidence that made her want to keep playing. “I should probably check on my friend,” she said softly, her lips feeling swollen by his tender assault. She’d forgotten all about Ellie, though she wasn’t surprised. Pete had a way of focusing every ounce of her attention directly on him. She leaned forward and placed another kiss on his bottom lip, boldly drawing her tongue along the crease of his mouth. “I’ll be right back, and then we can leave.” She swallowed hard. “Together.”

He helped her from the bar stool, grabbing her waist as she stumbled slightly, her knees buckling, still unsteady from their kiss. Then he drew her close and nuzzled her neck. “I’ll be right here,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

As she walked in the direction of the ladies’ room, Nora reached up and ran her fingers along her lips, still damp from his kisses. She felt her mouth curve in a naughty smile while a soft giggle slipped from her throat.

“Whatever would Prudence say?” she murmured. Right now, Nora didn’t care in the least.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re still in here!” Nora stood in front of an open stall in the ladies’ room, staring at Ellie Kiley. Her friend had her dress hiked up to her hips and was carefully painting her toenails a bright lavender shade. “Have you been waiting all this time for me?”

Ellie grabbed a wad of toilet paper and stuffed a bit between each toe, then hobbled out of the stall. “I’ve done my nails twice, plucked my brows and polished all the faucets. I was about to do some minor plumbing repairs when you walked in.”

Nora followed her, feeling properly contrite. “Why didn’t you leave? You could have escaped without him seeing you.”

“Why would I need to escape?” Ellie asked. “He saw me sitting across the bar. I wanted to give you two some time alone before I butted in.”

Nora frowned. If Pete had seen Ellie, then certainly he would have put two and two together and come up with “Nora.” No, Ellie must be mistaken. He never would have taken such liberties had he realized it was Prudence Trueheart hiding beneath the dark wig and sexy dress.

“I stood outside the ladies’ room door and watched you for a while. You two looked so cozy,” Ellie said, moving to the sinks. “I figured with all that champagne you were guzzling you’d have to visit the ladies’ room sooner or later. Who would have known you’d have a bladder the size of Lake Merced?” Ellie bent down and fanned her toes with her hands. “What did he say when he recognized you? Did he laugh at the wig?”

“The wig is necessary,” Nora said, running her fingers through the bangs. “Prudence Trueheart does not hang out in bars looking to pick up men, even if it is for the good of her readers. Besides, it worked, didn’t it? No one has recognized me.”

“Except for Pete,” Ellie clarified.

Nora stared into the mirror above the sinks, watching her reflection with objective eyes. She really didn’t look a bit like herself. She looked exotic, sultry, alluring, the dark hair falling around her pale face. Even so, there was her nose—that hadn’t changed. And her blue eyes, with the faint trace of a purple bruise beneath the left one. And though her mouth was painted a deep red, it was still her mouth. Nora sent her friend a sideways glance. “Actually, he hasn’t recognized me, either.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “What? You didn’t tell him who you were?”

“I didn’t see the point,” Nora said. She tugged on the collar of her dress, revealing a bit more shoulder. “Maybe the bustline threw him off.” She reached down and readjusted her Miracle Bra, grimacing. “Do you think if I wear this bra for a week, my chest will stay this way?”

When she looked up, she found Ellie staring at her. “What are you saying?” her friend asked, stunned by what she’d seen. “Of course he recognizes you! He’d have to be a dope not to figure it out. You don’t look that different.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” Nora said. “How could he? He never bothers to look at me at work. He even told me he’d never seen eyes like mine before. I guess he forgot he stared into these same eyes earlier this morning.” Drawing a small bottle of perfume from her purse, she dabbed a bit on her neck and between her breasts. “All right, maybe he is just playing along. I don’t care. I’m having fun and I like the way he makes me feel.”

She enjoyed being the object of his desire, playing the prey to his predator. It made her feel scared and thrilled all at once, as if she possessed some secret power that drew him nearer.

With a snort of disgust, Ellie stepped behind her and yanked the neckline up until the fabric cut into Nora’s armpits. “This isn’t just some stranger in a bar. It’s Pete Beckett. You work with him. And until recently, you hated him.” Ellie grabbed Nora’s purse and tucked it under her arm. “Come on. You and I are leaving before you do anything stupid.”

Nora snatched her purse from her friend and stubbornly refused to move. “For once in my life, I’d like to do something stupid! I’ve lived a proper life for twenty-eight years, and look where it’s gotten me. I can tell you how to arrange a receiving line at a wedding, how to set a formal table, how to word an engraved invitation. But I can’t tell you how it feels to be swept away by passion, to toss aside all common sense and let desire take over. I’m as exciting as a bowl of cold oatmeal.”

“Nora, stop and think. This is Pete Beckett. Are you sure you want to become another notch on his bedpost? If you do something stupid tonight, how are you going to face him tomorrow morning?”

“I don’t care,” Nora said. “That’s the wonderful thing about doing something truly stupid. You’re supposed to regret it the next morning. You regret it, then forget it. Besides, he doesn’t know who I am. If he did, he would have said something by now. Especially after he kissed me.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “Pete Beckett kissed you?”

“More than once,” Nora said smugly. “And he sucked on my fingers.” She sighed deeply. “I thought I’d faint.”

Her friend frowned and shook her head, staring at her in the mirror. “Maybe he doesn’t recognize you. Pete Beckett never would have sucked on Prudence Trueheart’s fingers.” A bemused expression settled on Ellie’s face. “Sam’s never sucked on my fingers.”

“Well, it feels good. And what’s wrong with enjoying the moment? Who could it hurt?”

Ellie wrapped her arm around Nora’s shoulders. “I know how nice it is to feel wanted. And it’s been a long time since you’ve been with a man. But a one-night stand with Pete Beckett is not going to help matters.”

“It’s been three years,” Nora said. “If you don’t count Stuart.”

Stuart Anderson was Nora’s landlord and closest male friend. For the past three years, Stuart had been her escort to all her mother’s high-society parties and fund-raisers. Celeste Pierce fancied Stuart as a son-in-law. With his impeccable manners and smooth social skills, he’d fit right in with Celeste’s crowd.

“I like Stuart,” Ellie said. “He’s safe and dependable. Not like Pete Beckett. Why don’t you sleep with him?”

“Stuart is gay,” Nora replied. “I don’t think he’ll be sucking my fingers anytime soon.” A deep sigh slipped from her lips. It wasn’t just the sex that she longed for with a man. She wanted all the simple sensations that went with it. The wonderful feel of a man’s weight on her body, the smooth skin and the hard muscle beneath her palms. The narrow hips that fit so perfectly between her legs and the heady awareness of his body moving inside hers. She wanted to experience all that just once more before she died—or turned thirty! And she was about to throw away her one and only chance.

“If I wanted to have a one-night stand, this would be the perfect opportunity,” Nora said. “I can just disappear from his life as if I never existed. He won’t even have to take the trouble to give me his usual brush-off. And better yet, I know him and so do you. He’s not some deranged psycho or an escaped ax murderer. I don’t have to worry about my safety.”

Ellie shook her head. “Nora, please, don’t—”

“I can control my emotions,” she said. “I’m a big girl, Ellie. I know what I’m doing.”

“But what about your heart?” Ellie asked. “Can you promise that you won’t have feelings for him later on?”

“Of course I won’t. He’s Pete Beckett. And I’m—well, you know who I am. I’m Prudence Trueheart and I couldn’t possibly fall in love with a man like him.” Nora drew a ragged breath, then forced a smile. “Maybe you’re worried if he realizes I’m Prudence Trueheart, he’ll be so repulsed he won’t want to kiss me or touch me.”