by JoAnn Ross
“That’s okay.” He played idly with the ends of her hair as he smiled at her. “You’re not my type, either.” What she was, Matt warned himself, was trouble. With a capital T. “But that doesn’t really seem to matter tonight, does it?”
“I don’t even know you.” Her voice, capable of belting out a scream that could shatter glass, was little more than a whisper.
“We can take care of that. Let’s find ourselves some private corner and share stories. I’ll tell you how Lilabeth Long broke my heart in the first grade, and you can tell me about your first kiss.”
“There have been so many,” she said flippantly. “I’m not certain I can remember the first one.”
“He must not have been that good a kisser.” He ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, causing roses to bloom on cheekbones sharp enough to cut his mother’s prized crystal. “Mine will be a great deal more memorable.”
His outrageous masculine arrogance should have irritated her. But since every instinct she possessed suggested he was not exaggerating, Shiloh didn’t argue the point. You are purely pitiful, falling for a smooth line from a backwoods pickup artist.
Her gaze had just drifted to his lips when Fletch appeared beside them. “Mom says there’s a call for you, Shiloh. From your sister.”
Having tried to call Savannah three more times before coming downstairs, Shiloh was relieved her sister had somehow located her. She was also more than a little grateful to have that strange, almost hypnotic mood broken.
“Thank you, Fletcher.” She looked at Matt. “I’d better take that.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her. Nothing short of plague hitting Paradise would make him leave the Silver Nugget tonight. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
The two lifelong friends watched her make her way through the crowd.
“Fast work,” Fletch murmured.
“Sometimes things click.” Actually, Matt felt as if he’d been poleaxed.
“So I noticed.”
“It’s that obvious?”
Fletch laughed at that. “I doubt if there’s a person in this place who didn’t notice that the two of you were somewhere off in your own little world. You’ve got the devil’s own luck, pal.” He flashed a wicked grin rife with suggestion. “Looks like I won’t have to worry about you driving on icy roads tonight.” He patted Matt on the shoulder. “If you need protection…”
Matt laughed at the offer. It was the same one Fletch had made the night of that long-ago Winter Wonderland dance when Matt had been determined to lose his virginity with his then steady girlfriend, Connie Underwood.
“I’m a doctor, remember. I know the risks. And I recall enough from my Boy Scout days to be prepared.”
What he didn’t say was that he’d put the condoms into his wallet at the last minute this evening in a halfhearted acknowledgment that perhaps this might be the night he gave in to Connie Underwood Warner’s frequent suggestions that they get together “for old times’ sake.” The newly divorced former Winter Wonderland queen had been actively pursuing him since they’d danced together at Octoberfest.
Since he’d been celibate for a lot longer than that, and had always liked Connie, the idea had become more than a little agreeable. Until he’d walked into the Silver Nugget and come face-to-face with an angel.
CHAPTER THREE
“As relieved as I am to hear you’re all right, I hate the idea of all these rich, gorgeous men going to waste,” Savannah complained. “I hate you being alone tonight even worse.”
“I’m not alone.”
There was a slight pause. “Oh, Lord, don’t tell me. You’ve met another loser.”
“He’s not a loser. He’s a doctor.”
“Undoubtedly a quack, under censor from the medical board.”
“He seems to be very well thought of in town.”
“So was Dr. Jekyll. And don’t forget what happened to the women who ended up in bed with Mr. Hyde.”
“I have no intention of going to bed with him.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Savannah asked dryly. “Ah, I remember. I said it last night, right before I left a party with a former Mr. Universe turned celebrity bodyguard.”
“I’m only flirting a little,” Shiloh insisted. “After being dumped, it feels good to have a man want me.”
Kenneth had held off consummating their romance, professing he didn’t want her to think he was only interested in her body. Plus, his mind was so wrapped up in his work. And then there were the convenient migraines. Thinking back on it, Shiloh realized that in his own strange way, he’d been trying to remain faithful to his snippy little graduate assistant who wasn’t capable of providing the financial support Shiloh had.
“Look in the mirror,” Savannah drawled. “Any male still breathing would want you. But whatever happens, Happy New Year, baby sister.”
After hanging up, Shiloh returned to the saloon. As she stood in the doorway, searching for Matt in the crowd, she felt a tingle at the back of her neck. Turning around, she saw a tall, gangly boy she guessed to be about fifteen staring at her.
“Hello.” She smiled.
He immediately dropped his eyes to the floor and mumbled what sounded like hi.
“Nice party,” she said.
He mumbled something that could have been an agreement and took a sudden interest in the toe of a size-twelve hiking boot that seemed determined to rub a hole in the pine plank floor.
“The band’s good, too,” Shiloh said. “I like country. It’s the only music left that tells a story.”
Another mumble, less coherent than the others. Deciding this wasn’t going anywhere, Shiloh was about to give up when he suddenly blurted out, “You were wonderful in Night Bites, Ms. Beauregard. I think you should get an Oscar.”
“Why, thank you. You wouldn’t happen to be Dr. McCandless’s nephew, would you?”
“I’m Danny—uh, Dan—Bannister,” he said, managing to almost look her in the eye. “Matt’s my uncle.”
“And you have a brother named Mike, right?”
“Yeah. How do you know that?”
“Your uncle told me the three of you had watched the video.”
“Five times.”
Her lips quirked at his enthusiasm. “That’s what he said. And thanks for buying the calendar.”
“It’s a cool calendar! Even better than Claudia Schiffer’s. I especially like January.”
“Yes, that seems to be a popular month.” A little silence settled over them. “Would you like to dance, Dan?”
“Dance?” His Adam’s apple bobbed furiously as he swallowed. “With you?”
“I love this song,” she said as the band began wailing away on an Alan Jackson favorite. “It seems a shame to just listen while everyone else is enjoying themselves.”
He looked as if she’d offered him the keys to a shiny new four-by-four pickup. “Oh, wow, Ms. Beauregard, I’d love that. But I’m not that good a dancer.”
“Neither am I,” she lied. “But together, we should do fine.”
Although his palms were sweaty, and he tripped over those oversize feet a time or two and stepped on her toes once, they managed quite well. However, once she was seen dancing with the star-struck teenager, it was as if a dam had burst, and soon Shiloh found herself facing a continual stream of partners.
By the time the clock in the lobby chimed eleven, she figured she’d danced with nearly every male in Paradise, including Danny’s equally star-struck brother, Mike, Matt’s father, Dr. Michael McCandless, Horace Tyrell—“owner of Tyrell’s Feed and Fuel,” he’d proudly informed her—and Reed Kavanaugh, publisher of the Paradise Weekly Sentinel. She even danced two slow numbers back-to-back with Fletcher Brown, who seemed openly amused by Matt’s resultant glower.
And although she was enjoying herself immensely, when she found herself back in Matt’s arms, she felt as if she was finally right where she was supposed to be.
“I knew I wa
s going to have to share you,” he muttered. “But I never counted on my own nephew opening the floodgates.”
“He’s sweet. So’s Mike.”
“You haven’t seen either of them in a major teenage funk. It was nice of you to ask Danny to dance.” Matt had watched the exchange, surprised by her apparent understanding of a young man’s delicate ego.
“I suppose I could have waited for him to ask me. But I think we’d still be standing there this time next year.”
Matt laughed at that and drew her a little closer. “You know, speaking of next year, it’s almost midnight. And we still haven’t had any time alone together.”
“I know.” She twined her fingers together behind his neck. “I suppose it’s too cold to go outside.”
“Unless you want to risk hypothermia.” Which wouldn’t be all that bad, Matt thought, as he considered all the ways he could warm her up. “As a physician, I wouldn’t advise it. With the windchill, it’s probably ten below zero out there.”
“And I doubt we could find much privacy here.”
“Not an iota.” Unable to resist the lure of her sultry mouth, he traced a finger around her lips. “I think, if we really want to be alone, we’ve got two choices.”
Her lips parted beneath that feather-light sensuous touch. “What are they?”
“Number one, we can blow this joint and drive to my place.” The pad of his index finger had picked up a smear of crimson lip gloss. With his eyes on hers, he seductively licked it off. “Which is, even in decent weather, twenty minutes away.”
“And choice number two?”
“We can go to your room.”
She knew she should say no. But as she watched his tongue gather in that scarlet smear, Shiloh felt on the verge of swooning. And this time she wasn’t acting. Reminding herself that things would only go as far as she’d let them, Shiloh made her decision.
“I think I like choice number two.”
Matt had always prided himself on being a careful individual, the kind of man who considered all the possible consequences of his behavior. After making the decision to follow in his father’s footsteps the summer of his twelfth year, he’d set out planning his future with the same unwavering attention to detail NATO generals used when planning invasions.
With the exception of a fling with a sexy young soap opera starlet during his medical student days at UCLA, his love affairs had always been born of long-term relationships with women he knew well and admired. Women of his own world, with whom he shared views and values. The relationships usually lasted from four to six months, and when they ended, he and the woman easily went back to being friends.
And although he’d always thoroughly enjoyed sex, he’d never, ever, been driven by rampant hormones. Until tonight.
Settling his hand on her waist in an openly possessive masculine way, he led Shiloh out of the saloon, pausing at the bar only long enough to buy a bottle of champagne.
“It’s not French,” he apologized, “but it’s not bad.”
“Since you brought it up, I prefer inexpensive champagne. Not that I have many occasions to drink it.”
His brows lifted in obvious disbelief. “Don’t tell me a gorgeous woman like you isn’t part of the party crowd?” He could see her, a bright butterfly, flitting from actor to actor, flirting with Val, dazzling Mel, teasing Stallone to distraction.
“Now you sound like my manager. He’s constantly trying to set up dates with hunks of the month, but to tell the truth, I’m pretty much a homebody.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “Which is why tonight is so special.”
She sounded amazingly sincere, which just went to show that the lady was a better actress than he would have guessed from watching her in Night Bites. Matt was almost tempted to believe her.
During his short-lived affair with the soap actress vixen, he’d hung out for a time with the Tinseltown crowd. From what he’d observed, actresses tended to be self-absorbed and relentless when it came to furthering their careers. It wasn’t easy getting ahead when every waitress and salesclerk was a former beauty queen from towns like Topeka, Tucson and Texarkana hoping to become the next Sandra Bullock or Kim Basinger.
As good as Shiloh Beauregard looked in that tight red dress, Matt already knew she looked even better out of it. She obviously had no qualms about shedding most of her clothes in her movies, which made him wonder how many she’d shed in producers’ offices to win those roles over other wannabe starlets. Putting that unpalatable thought aside as they entered the old-fashioned elevator, he drew her into his arms.
“Cold?” He lowered his head until his mouth was a whisper away from hers. The question wafted across her lips.
“Hardly.” She laughed, a silky sound that crept beneath his skin. Although the champagne bottle was cold against her back, his body was hot against her breasts, stomach and thighs, causing her to tremble. “I know it’s freezing outside, but I can’t remember ever being this warm.”
And he couldn’t remember being this hot. He pressed her against the back wall, enjoying the way her soft, feminine curves melded so invitingly against him.
“I have a feeling it’s going to get a lot warmer before the night is out.”
His eyes gleamed with wicked seduction that a sensible woman would resist. This was Savannah’s territory, Shiloh reminded herself. Even now, her twin was probably flirting her way through a crowd of male admirers. Even as she’d driven toward Aspen, Shiloh had known that despite her sister’s offer of all those eligible men—and despite her own vow to drive nails into the coffin of her failed romance with Kenneth by dazzling them—she’d be sleeping alone. Shiloh never indulged in one-night stands.
But then the blizzard had hit and fate had landed her in Paradise. In the arms of the only man who’d ever possessed the power to make her breathless.
“Do you realize we’ve known each other nearly three hours?” he asked.
“That’s not very long.”
“It’s a lifetime,” he corrected. “And to think I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
He hadn’t exactly propositioned her. But the glint in his eyes spoke volumes. “Just because I’m letting you come up to my suite doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.”
“Did you hear me say anything about sleeping?”
“Please don’t play word games with me. You know what I mean.”
“Yes. I know exactly what you’re getting at.” Reminding himself that he’d always been an infinitely patient man, Matt brushed his lips against her cheek. “Just a simple kiss, Shiloh. The kind of kiss strangers share every New Year’s Eve. How dangerous could that be?”
How dangerous indeed? she asked herself as his mouth created a trail of sparklers up the side of her face. “Just a kiss,” she echoed.
As his lips switched sides to create that same tingling havoc on her right cheek, Shiloh began to realize that there was no such thing as a simple kiss where this man was concerned.
“I knew it.” His tongue cruised a hot, wet path along the line of her lower lip.
“Knew what?” How was it that she was already breathless?
“That you’d taste as good as you looked.” A thoughtful, thorough man in all things, Matt took his time, his mouth savoring hers with seemingly infinite patience.
The moist sumptuous kiss went on and on, making Shiloh wonder if he intended to kiss her endlessly. Gradually, it grew deeper. Darker. And infinitely more dangerous.
By the time the elevator reached her floor, stopping with a discreet little ding that reverberated like a carillon in the suspended silence, the flavor of him had seeped into her until she was nearly drunk with it.
“Well.” Matt was shaken and determined not to show it. “That was certainly pleasant.”
Pleasant? Shiloh was unable to believe he could remain unaffected while her entire world had been turned upside down.
“It wasn’t bad,” she agreed numbly. “For a simple kiss.”
“Want to push the button
for the lobby and try it again?”
“As delightful as that sounds, perhaps you ought to go back to the party,” she suggested. If there was one thing that kiss had shown her—other than the fact that it was, indeed, possible for blood to boil—it was that there was absolutely nothing safe about this man.
“And leave you to toast the new year alone? What kind of mayoral ambassador of goodwill would that make me?”
“I find it difficult to believe you kiss every visitor to Paradise like that.” She was, thank heavens, beginning to get her equilibrium back.
“You’re right.” His grin was as easygoing as ever, but this time Shiloh wasn’t fooled. “I only kiss gorgeous blondes who can scream the house down in horror flicks. Other visitors get the standard chamber of commerce packet.” He bent toward her again and kissed the tip of her nose. “But I gotta tell you, sweetheart, this was a lot more fun.”
She couldn’t deny it. “Contrary to the impression you may have of people who live in Hollywood, I’m not into one-night stands.”
“That’s wise,” he agreed. His smile didn’t waver.
“Yes… Well.” It was not like Shiloh to be at a loss for words. For the life of her she couldn’t think of a single logical-sounding reason she should send this man downstairs to the party. Alone.
“I’m not going to pounce on you, Shiloh.” He ran the back of his hand down her cheek in a gesture she supposed was meant to reassure, but did just the opposite. How was it that such a seemingly innocent touch could make her nerves hum? “We’ll turn the radio on, dance a little more, drink some champagne, share some conversation, a traditional New Year’s kiss at midnight, then I’ll leave.
“And tomorrow the roads should be clear and you’ll be on your way to Aspen and we’ll both have memories of an enjoyable snowbound New Year’s Eve.”
“All right. But no dancing.”
He followed her out of the elevator and down the hall. “I like dancing with you.”
“And I like dancing with you. That’s precisely the problem.”