Dare Me

“Why?” she asked, seconds before he stole her ability to speak. Not just with his mouth, but the way he touched her. A slow squeeze followed by just his palm circling the tip of her nipple.

The goose bumps came back. Shivers arrived with his low groan.

She caught a peek of orange sky as they stopped, but it was a red light, not home base.

Picturing him in her minuscule apartment made her remember the dress that was hanging in her closet, still covered in plastic. She’d spent too much money on it, even though it was secondhand. But it was for a very special occasion, and as much as Cameron’s kisses had reminded her how much she wanted to have mind-boggling sex with him, it was much more important to her to have him escort her to the awards banquet.

But how could she stop this runaway train of sexual exploration? It would be horrible to put the brakes on now.

It wasn’t that she felt obligated to have sex with him, even when they were both this aroused. She wanted him. He wanted her. Ever since the first touch of his lips, her body had been giving her an enthusiastic green light. On the other hand... As the cab inched into traffic, Molly pulled back. Not away, not like that, but enough.

“What’s wrong?” Cam asked.

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed. “Uh...”

“I mean, it’s something. But nothing’s technically wrong.”

His left hand dropped away as he sat up, helping her up as he did so. Which was just more proof that he’d be the most perfect date ever for one of the most important nights of her life. Since her neighbor Eddie had moved to Ohio, she didn’t have anyone she could count on to be her plus-one.

“Molly?”

When she met Cam’s gaze, her uncertainty grew. They were just two blocks away from her place now, and dammit, she wasn’t sure.

She wanted to be sure.

Especially because he’d made it very clear he had one goal in mind, and if they both went upstairs, he’d get his wish and walk away. And while she’d be left sexually satisfied, she would lose a golden opportunity. Getting the award, making the speech, being in the company of so many people she admired terrified her.

Her only option was to move the goal line.

Fully aware that she was being manipulative and selfish, she plunged ahead. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I know my timing is terrible, but please, could I have a rain check?”

His shocked expression almost convinced her to change her mind.

“I have to admit I was not expecting that,” he said. “Did I get my signals crossed?”

“No. Everything you did was great. Perfect. I didn’t know until just now that I wasn’t sure. About the rest of it. About moving so fast. This has been a fantastic night, but...”

“You need to be certain.”

She nodded.

He looked at her with his dark eyes. “Okay. Rain check it is.”

Her sigh didn’t ease her guilt, but it did help her relax enough to grab her purse. “I’ll call you,” she said, just as they turned onto her block. “Soon. Very soon. I hope you’ll want to see me again.”

Cam leaned over and kissed her. Lightly. On the lips, and then on her cheek. “I had a great time,” he said. “Almost all the way to the end.”

She winced, even though he was teasing. “Thank you.” She found his hand and squeezed it before she opened her purse to pull out her wallet. “I’m sorry about the coffee.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said, stopping her from getting money out. “Can you wait for me?” he asked the cabbie. “Five minutes?”

“I’m on the clock. Take your time.”

“You don’t need to walk me up,” Molly said. “Honestly. I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. I’ve only got a few steps to go before I’m inside.”

Nodding, he got out of the cab and held his hand out to help her. Once they were standing on the sidewalk, she had the urge to ask him up anyway, but she held back. She wanted him to be the perfect ending to her big awards night. Then, when they said their goodbyes, she’d have no regrets at all.

* * *

THE RIDE BACK to Manhattan was as surreal as it was uncomfortable. Cam had been completely blindsided by Molly’s request. The conversation had been stellar. She was amazing to touch, to kiss, and the way she’d kissed him back—

Dammit, there’d been chemistry between them.

Not the forever kind. But it had been easy and sexy. Naturally, he’d pictured them in bed together. Halfway to her place, he’d been calculating how early they’d have to get up to have morning sex.

And then...ice water.

At least the physical discomfort had eased up. Not totally. That wouldn’t happen until he got back to his place and did some manual labor. But at least his balls weren’t blue anymore.

Even though he’d moved to the side of the bench seat, he knew the cabbie was still sneaking glimpses at him. A woman behind the wheel was a rarity in New York. He’d have liked to ask her opinion about what had happened, but that would be admitting he’d been making out in the backseat like a teenage horndog. Of course, she knew that. No way she couldn’t, but pretending that it hadn’t happened was the best way to handle things like this.

Besides, Cam was pretty certain Molly had meant what she’d said. That she would call him, and they’d have another go, and she’d have quelled her doubts. Huh. She’d probably gone directly to the internet to check out his story. She’d met Emmy, but when it came down to taking a man into her bed, she probably wanted to be completely confident he wasn’t a bastard.

He’d checked her out. Why wouldn’t she do the same?

Right. It wasn’t complicated, and it wasn’t about him. Maybe he should have insisted on paying the dinner tab.

No. She’d been very clear, and his sisters had taught him to listen to things like that. Ignoring the express wishes of a lady, even if he thought he knew better, was dismissive and a dick move.

That she’d postponed things meant nothing. Sex tonight hadn’t been cut in stone. The next move was hers. He hoped she’d call. If she didn’t? No need to go there. He hadn’t even gotten back to the city yet. He’d give it a few days. She’d call.

She would.

4

FOUR A.M. As he stared at the ceiling, thoughts of Molly and what they could have been doing kept Cam up, pissed that he couldn’t turn off his brain.

Since the date had ended earlier than he’d expected, he’d gone down to the bar to help out after his shower. The plan had been to get some relief then hit the sack, but that hadn’t worked out, either.

Sunday through Thursday, they were open till two. As soon as their last customer left, Cam had helped the Sunday night crew clean everything. He’d made an excellent favor swap with Solomon, their senior bartender. Solomon now owed him a weekend night off for scrubbing the floors in the kitchen and subbing in behind the bar. The physical exercise and focus had been a good distraction from thinking about Molly. Unfortunately, the distraction had stopped working as soon as he had.

He’d tried to convince himself he was tired enough to sleep. After lying in bed as the minutes marched on, he went for one more round with his right hand. It didn’t take long to get hard, not when he could picture her so clearly. Shit, he could still practically feel her breast under his palm.

If this didn’t do the trick, he’d get out his notebook and work some calculus problems. Those had always put him to sleep.

* * *

MOLLY SQUIRMED IN her bed, unable to find a comfortable position. She wouldn’t look at the clock. Not again. Every time she did, she was compelled to figure out how many hours she had until her alarm went off if she immediately fell asleep.

The last reading had been at two-fifteen. Her alarm would go off at five-thirty.

All because she was the most horrible person in all of New York. And New Jersey, and probably Connecticut and, what the hell, Rhode Island, too.

The look on Cameron’s face when she’d pulled the emergency cord. She might as well have slapped him across the face. What she’d actually done was probably worse for a guy.

She’d been having this internal debate since she’d walked into her apartment and turned on her computer. She’d gone straight to The Four Sisters Brewpub’s website. It was an impressive site with lots of history about the place, including how many blue ribbons Cameron’s beer had won in the past. But none in the past five years.

They’d barely scratched the surface of each other’s lives. She had questions. Far too many for a brief encounter of the sexual kind. Where had he gone to school? What did he do when he wasn’t crafting beers, or was he like her, obsessed and never truly away from his career?

The world of wine was very competitive. Very few made any kind of splash at all, and barely a trickle became internationally noted.

She wished Phillip and Simone had planned on coming to New York for Friday’s ceremony. But it was understandable that they couldn’t just drop everything for one banquet. Bordeaux to New York was a major trip, and they were so busy with the vineyard and the business. Simone had mentioned a possible visit in the fall, so that was something to look forward to.

In the meantime, if Molly had Cam on her arm, no one would wonder where her parents were. Of course, Phillip and Simone weren’t her real parents; she’d known them for only twelve years. But they’d brought her into their incredible home, into their lives. It had been a rebirth, the only one that mattered to her.

She’d have liked to introduce them to Cameron. He’d have gotten on well with Phillip especially. Phillip enjoyed a cold beer from time to time, although you would never guess it. But he’d have liked that Cameron was the brains behind his brews.

And now here Molly was, unable to sleep, her mind still chock-full of Cameron. Which wasn’t wise. She barely knew him, and best-case scenario, she’d be with him from Friday evening through Saturday morning. If she was very lucky, maybe they’d have breakfast together, but that thought, that hope, was already crossing a line.

She’d lived on fantasies most of her life. Only one had ever come true. Phillip and Simone hadn’t actually adopted her, but that was okay. Just the odds of finding an amazing foster family as a teenager were off the charts.

Her thoughts veered back to the most vivid of tonight’s fantasies. Cameron, taking off her clothes. Slowly. Kissing all the places he uncovered. Calling her beautiful, even though she knew she wasn’t quite. It was easy to picture him without his shirt. Not so easy to imagine what was under his jeans. At least in the front. She’d already gotten a great look at his butt with the way the denim hugged him.

He did have big hands, so... That didn’t necessarily mean he was well-endowed, but for now, she’d go with it. What the heck, right? In for a penny. Having already used her vibrator once, she let her fingers do the work this time. Once they were underneath her panties, she knew exactly what to do. Her imagination was vivid and well practiced. He’d be on this very bed, the covers tossed aside. His kisses were easy to recall in perfect detail. From there, she could extrapolate what his lips would feel like on her nipples. How he’d lick his way down until he reached her button.

She winced at the word, the old word that she’d learned from the other kids. When they’d whispered after lights-out. The button. It had taken her years to figure out what they meant. She’d thought it was a real button.

She’d learned, of course, that it was her clitoris. But some habits were harder to break than others, and dammit, she didn’t want to think about anything but Cameron and how he’d know just what she liked. How he’d go slowly until she couldn’t stand it, and how he would care more about making her happy than just taking for himself. Hey, it was her fantasy, so she didn’t care that men like that didn’t exist in real life.

She’d call him on Tuesday. Give him enough time to rent a tuxedo, if he didn’t own one. Would he be insulted if she offered to pay for the rental?

Pulling her hand out of her pants, she gave up. She was never going to get to sleep if she didn’t stop projecting wildly about a man she barely knew.

All she had was a feeling.

Cameron Crawford would come through for her. For one perfect night. Was that too much to hope for?

Sighing, she avoided answering her own question and started counting the seconds, determined to get to five hundred or fall asleep trying.

She reached eight hundred and nine.

* * *

“I’M GONNA CALL HER.” It was Tuesday afternoon and Emmy was prepping condiments while Cameron worked at the small table in the corner of the bar’s kitchen. “As a friend,” he said. “Just, you know, make sure she’s okay.”

Emmy was quiet for so long, Cam looked up. She wasn’t looking at him. In fact, she was standing at the sink washing limes, but there was no doubt she was judging him.

“I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. Besides, I’ll hear it in her voice if she doesn’t want to talk to me.” Hell, she probably wouldn’t even answer. Stupid caller ID. There weren’t any surprises left in life.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

He glanced down at his newest recipe for a cream ale. Although he hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep last night, at least he’d come up with what he thought was a viable design for a unique brew. But his mind wasn’t on the new ale. It was stuck on all the things he wished he’d said to Molly.

What the hell? Last time he’d checked, he wasn’t a teenage girl.

Closing his eyes, he let his chin drop to his chest. “I should go back to bed. Fifteen minutes is all I need. I read an article. Fifteen, twenty minutes is supposed to leave me refreshed but not groggy.” He looked at his sister again. “It sounds like torture. Maybe that’s why it works. I’ll end up so pissed off that I couldn’t enjoy my nap, it’ll knock that groggy shit right out.”

Emmy laughed. Turned off the water. “What’s gotten into you? You must have really liked Molly, because you never mention women you go out with. Even the ones that keep you out all night.”

He wasn’t about to tell Emmy how the date had actually ended. Way too much information, and just...no. “We didn’t really finish our conversation, that’s all. She was nice. Interesting.”

“Your conversation. Uh-huh.”

“I’m tired. Leave me alone. Actually, talk to Jade. She’s trying to set me up with someone from her gym. I told her about the trading cards, but I could tell she’s got something cooking.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her. Just do me a favor. Don’t call Molly. You sound pathetic.”

“Thanks a lot.” He was supposed to finish writing this damn recipe, then go help pitch the yeast into the wort. Eric was running the floor in back, and the crew would do just fine without him, but an extra hand was never turned away. They’d all helped him with his small-brew experiments. Yeah, that was part of what they got paid to do, but it never felt like that, not in the brewery or the bar. You made the payroll, you became part of The Four Sisters family.

“Don’t forget to talk to Jade.”

“Yes, sir.” Emmy turned back to her prepping, and Cam left the kitchen. Left the bar. Only to go upstairs to his apartment.

His dad had had this addition built. There’d been plenty of times that a place to crash had been a blessing, and Cam was sure everyone would be relieved when he went back to Syracuse. Fridays and Saturdays the bar was open until four in the morning. A lot of people had crashed in the bed upstairs.

It wasn’t even that noisy. The contractor had previously worked on sound booths and editing facilities, and he’d made sure not much noise bled upstairs. Nothing they could do about the vibrations, but Cam was used to the pulse of the jukebox.

Halfway up, his cell phone rang, and when he saw it was Molly, he hurried up the rest of the stairs. He didn’t answer until he was inside the apartment with the door shut behind him.

“Hi. It’s Molly.”

“I know. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Good. I mean, I’m completely stuck on this column I’m writing, but other than that, everything’s fine.”

“I’m glad. Not about being stuck. About...” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do better. “I was impressed when I saw that you blocked out time on your calendar for writing and stuff.”

“I just wanted people to know that I have office hours. That it would be better not to call when I was working.”

“Do they anyway?”

She laughed. “All the time.”

“It was worth a try, though, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m still awfully sorry for how I left things,” she said, using her serious voice again. “It wasn’t very nice of me.”

“It’s okay. It really is. Especially now that you’ve called back.”

“Right. About that rain check.”

“Say when.”

She was silent for several beats—enough time for him to realize he’d jumped the gun again. Why couldn’t he wait for the punch line with her?

“Well, actually, I was thinking about Friday night. Except there’s a catch.”

He sat down on the one really comfortable chair in the apartment. The place wasn’t big. A round table and chairs next to a tiny kitchen that wasn’t much more than a cooktop, a dorm fridge, a microwave and a sink. There was also a bathroom—shower only, no tub—and a queen-size bed. The good chair wasn’t huge, just comfortable. “I’m listening,” he said, wondering what the catch could possibly be.

“There’s a thing I need to go to. A banquet, actually. It’s a wine thing, so there’ll be fantastic drinks and food. But it’s formal, so yeah, a tux would help, and there’ll be some speeches, so that won’t be fun. Except when I say there’ll be great wine, I mean it. All the top vineyards send their best stuff.”

“A banquet?”

“Yeah. For the industry. Wine writers. It’s an international association, and people come from all over to attend. I don’t think you’ll be too bored. There’ll be nice people at our table. Really nice people. Like Donna. My editor. She’s the editor in chief of the magazine, and she’s hilarious. She’s completely New York and doesn’t give a damn who likes her or not, so she never holds back. I know she’d like you, too.”

Cam should stop her. He’d already decided to go. Hell, if she’d asked him to accompany her to the moon, he’d have rented an astronaut suit. A tuxedo was nothing.

“It sounds great and the tux isn’t a problem. You just tell me what time and where to show up.”

“Really?’

He grinned and stretched out in his chair, putting his free hand behind his head. “Really. So, is this a mandatory work thing, or is this something you like doing?”

“I’m always amazed I get to go, although they usually charge for a place at the table.”

“What’s unusual about this time?”

She cleared her throat, although it was muted, as if she’d moved the phone away from her mouth. “Well, I’m getting an award.”

“No kidding? What for?”

“Emerging wine writer of the year.” He could picture her so easily, the way she’d look down, then back up at him through her lashes.

Now he was even more pleased that he’d said yes. “That’s very impressive. I imagine there was a lot of competition for that award. I’m going to have to read all of your columns now. I only sampled a few, but they were excellent. Huh. It’ll be like going to the Oscars with Jennifer Lawrence.”

She laughed. “It’s so not. Not by a mile.”

“You can have your fantasies and I’ll have mine. At the very least, I’ll be with the prettiest woman there.”

“You make me blush. But I’ll give you a hint. You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

“Compliment me so lavishly.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I mean what I say.”

“Right.”

“Next time you see Emmy, you ask her what I’m like. I’m not prone to exaggeration. Honest to a fault, and I mean that literally. I say too much, too often. Probably because I had four older sisters to compete with. But how come you know you’ve won? Aren’t these things supposed to be a surprise?”

“Not really. Some of the recipients live far away, so they let them know in advance.”

“I wish they’d do that in beer competitions, but I suppose they can’t. I hate the nerves that come before they announce the winners.”

“I really want to talk to you about beer,” she said. “I want to know about the brewing processes and the subculture and what the politics are like.”

It was clear she meant it, and he loved that she was interested, although it was such a huge topic that he had no idea where to start. “But I can’t. Not right now. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes. I sort of planned it this way. I wanted an excuse to end the conversation quickly in case you said no.”

“You could have made something up,” he said, wishing she didn’t have a meeting.

“I’m honest to a fault, too. Although not as a statement or a philosophy. I’m just a lousy liar.”

“Another reason to look forward to Friday night.”

She sighed, and he wanted to kiss her. “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”

“Great.” After the call ended, he thought about what Emmy had said and wondered what it was about Molly that had him so wound up. Probably the fact that she didn’t want a relationship. He’d hated those family setups. The only thing he was looking for while he was in Queens was a good time. No strings, no complications. Luckily, that appeared to be all that Molly wanted, as well.

5

IT WAS CAMERON. On her cell. Molly straightened her hair and mashed her lips together to spread her berry lip balm as if he could see her on Skype. After taking a couple of full breaths, the way she did before each broadcast, she answered the call. “Hello?”

“You’re working. I don’t want to bother you. But then I figured if you were too busy, you’d let it go to voice mail. Are you too busy?”

“Nope.” And she’d said she didn’t lie well. “What’s up?”

“I need your opinion.”

Molly heard some muffled noises, nothing she could really interpret, then her phone beeped. She pulled it away from her ear to see who it was, only to discover it was Cam. She clicked on his message and a picture started to load.

Hers wasn’t one of the latest smartphones on the market, but it was decent enough to display a clear photo. Her grin grew as she realized he’d sent her a selfie—and not a good one because of the flash flaring in the mirror. She could barely make out Cam in a black tuxedo.

A faint “Hey” made her click on the speaker. “Molly! Did I lose you?”

“No, I’m here,” she said. “And I’ve turned on the speaker. So, I assume you’re picking out your tux.”

“No, I’m having lunch at Prune. This is how I always dress.”

“Ha. I like a man with a subtle sense of humor. I can’t actually see what the tux looks like. Is there someone in the shop who could get a better shot of you?”

“Yeah, I think so. The guy running the place probably wouldn’t mind. Hold on. I only put on the jacket.”

The sounds that followed painted another picture entirely. First his phone clunked on something hard, and then there was the unmistakable swoosh of fabric on fabric. Was he taking off his own clothes to try on the tux pants? Or had he called her wearing no pants at all?

“Okay,” he said, and his voice got louder. “Let’s go find a photographer.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to all this trouble.”

“This is important,” he said. “I’m going with one of the honorees. She’s the emerging wine writer of the year. The event’s very classy. And so is she.”

Now she was grinning like a lunatic. She should get up, lock her door. Two students had appointments starting about five minutes ago. Not at the same time. Back-to-back. But Tanya was late, so her loss. By the time Molly did turn the lock, there was another voice coming from her Android. He had a pretty thick accent. Spanish, she thought, although there was noise filtering in from the street.