The elevator doors opened before she could say anything, but the way she swayed her hips as she exited conveyed that she liked his answer.
He never did this anymore—one-night stands, hooking up with strangers, whatever you called it. He’d had plenty of chances, almost nightly, to do so, but he knew better. Tonight, it was his duty to attend his band mate’s wedding, even though he’d dreaded it. Weddings sucked. They were only a reminder of his uninspired love life.
But Vero rectified his thoughts. Maybe this wedding—this night—could be what he needed to patch up his life. Get him back on the right track.
She didn’t recognize him. All the better. Maybe she wouldn’t use him like other women did. He’d get some play time out of their night and the words would come out of hiding.
He removed the key from his pocket. “Room 707.”
She stopped in her tracks and blinked at him. “Really? It’s a palindrome.”
“What’s that?”
“When numbers read the same forward and backward.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him across the gold, diamond-patterned carpet to the door. “Want to know something else?”
He supported his shoulder against the door jamb and smiled at her. He liked that she became talkative about random things—not his career, his life, or the other crap women tried to get out of him. “Of course.”
“I kind of have a fascination with the number seven. It follows me everywhere.”
“Lucky sign?”
She inserted his key into the slot and opened the hotel room door. “Come in and find out.” She walked in backward, pulling him in by the tie. A thoughtful smile curved her mouth, those damn red lips taunting him. He still hadn’t even kissed this woman.
The door slowly closed behind them and he walked her toward the huge, king-size bed until she perched on the edge of the mattress. For a second, anxiety crossed her face, her gaze avoiding him.
Okay, he’d take it slow. “Let’s find some drinks.”
He pulled out three mini-bottles of hard liquor from the mini-fridge and held them up. “You won’t believe what I found.”
She lifted a sexy eyebrow in response.
“Jack Daniels … Old Number 7.”
“See what I mean? Number seven and I are old friends.” Before he could open the bottles, Vero was in front of him, her long, dark hair out of the ponytail, curled around her shoulders.
She pushed him against the armoire, opened his jacket, and her hands roamed over his dress shirt. Her long fingers trembled, and it reassured him that she didn’t always do this. Her words said one thing, but her actions conveyed another. She was a novice at seduction. He loved her hesitant yet obvious desire to lure him in.
He bent down the few inches to touch her lips with his. A lightning bolt of energy shot through his body. Her body was like heaven, her lips soft, pliable, accepting, and eager. His heart beat faster and he hardened even more than he thought possible. Damn, it’d been too long.
He grabbed her waist, the curve of her hips under his fingers, and pushed her against the desk next to them. When her lips opened, he delved deeper with his tongue. She still tasted of whiskey and a whole other unique flavor. It turned him on more to know she had a taste that was all hers—and his for the night.
Her voice quavered when he pulled back. “I hope I’m doing this right.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. It’s perfect.” Again, her uncertainty was a clear indication of who she truly was. She didn’t seduce him to get in the limelight. She wanted him for him, just as badly as he wanted her.
When she reached up to tear off his jacket, his breath hitched audibly. This was really going to happen. He grabbed her beautiful, tight ass and sat her on the desk, pushing her legs open wider to settle between them. All the while, her fingers dug into his neck and through his hair, her long nails raking his skin.
He let go of her mouth and nipped her ear. “There’s no turning back.”
“Thank God.” A low, husky laugh sounded in his ear.
His hands grazed her thighs, and he pulled her dress up to her waist to reveal teeny-tiny, black, lacy underwear. “Madre de Dios, it only gets better.”
She smiled slowly, a sweet smile, and so damn sexy he was afraid he wouldn’t hold out. He knelt down in front of her, to get a better view of her bottom half. Her perfect, tight ass taunted him and her mound peeked behind a small red bow.
At the same time, Veronica slid down to the carpet to balance on her tiptoes and wiggled out of her dress. Then she nipped his bottom lip and sighed behind his rasping breath as she sat back down. “Your turn.”
He could process only one thing at a time, and his mind lingered on the sight in front of him, spread open wide. He kissed her ankle and worked along her silky leg, stopping at her knee. His fingers rubbed miniature circles up her thigh to the edge of her lacy panties.
Before he continued, she reached down to undo his tie. “I need to see you. Now.” The urgency in her voice made him smile slowly.
“Easy, baby. I want to take you in every way.”
She brushed her hand down his chest and ripped his shirt open wider. Huh. She’d already unbuttoned his shirt? When did that happen? He couldn’t even focus. Damn woman.
His fingers rubbed and kneaded her center, her wetness soaking through. His mouth salivated at the thought of having her and that she was hot for him, like he was for her. He stretched up, pulled her into his arms, and walked them to the bed.
Vero squealed in delight, kicking off her heels before he gently threw her on the bed. She sat up and grasped his buckle, undoing the belt quickly. She was on the same wavelength. The first time had to be fast. Quick. United. Now.
After she helped him remove his pants, Diego clutched her long hair in his palm and pulled her neck back gently. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She bit her bright red lips and batted her lashes. “I need you now, Diego.”
He stooped above her, climbing his way onto the bed and on top of her. “Everything great comes from a need.”
In answer, she pulled his mouth down on hers and rubbed her lower half into him, kneading her soft spots into his hard ones. She opened completely to him, so he did the same. He tugged her higher up on the bed and ran his hands up and down her sides. His mouth devoured her skin—above her breasts, in between, lower down her curves, and to the part of her that had called to him since he saw those damn lacy panties.
He pulled them down. He meant to do it gently, but in his hunger, he tugged hard. Vero apparently liked it as she writhed and moaned with need. He teased her until every thought left his brain.
When her hands pulled at the nape of his neck, instead of hurting, a sting rang through his body—hotter than hell. He continued to lick until she quivered beneath him and then pulled him up to eye level, a slow smile pulling at her succulent lips.
“Where did you come from?”
He pushed loose, wet strands of hair behind her ear. “I should ask the same about you.”
She slid her hand down between them and guided him to her, and they both moaned as he entered her with a force. Vero didn’t stop searching his face, and he did the same. Her gorgeous blue eyes spoke to him of the pleasure she felt. When he reached down and touched her swollen, wet flesh, she shuddered beneath him as he pushed in several more times and came with her.
Fisting one hand in her hair and the other on her hip, Diego buried his face in the crook of her neck and allowed his heartbeat to return to normal.
Vero didn’t move for a long time. He couldn’t either. Maybe she was just as stunned as he was with the power of their connection. Madre de Dios, he hadn’t experienced anything like this in a long time. Maybe never. A completely mind-boggling desire to stay with this woman all night, to learn who she was and to experience more intimacy, consumed him.
So when she finally stirred and shifted to get up, Diego wouldn’t let her. He lifted his head and smiled. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Shhh. Stay.” He caressed her bottom lip with his thumb.
“Okay.”
And then this woman rocked his world again—over and over, all night long.
That’s why, when he awoke the next day to an empty room, an empty bed, his heart kicked his chest and disappointment consumed him for a brief minute.
He knew nothing about Vero and she didn’t know him. It was over.
And goddamned if he didn’t want it to be.
Chapter Two
Three weeks later
The Aria Lounge looked calm on the inside, but outside was a completely different story. Men stared in the windows like a bunch of spectators at the zoo. Great. She was a zoo animal. “Chloe, I don’t want to do this.”
Her friend grabbed her hand. “Come on. You’re not leaving me here in the middle of all these hyenas, Veronica.” Chloe pulled her into the abyss of madness where the hostess stand was located. A Dating Minutes sign hung in full view. “We’re here for the speed dating event,” Chloe said to the woman wearing a Dating Director pin.
“Your names, please?” The woman grinned as Chloe provided them, then held up two pieces of blue plastic. “Here are your name badges. Printed on the back you’ll find your table number, and this is your Speeding Ticket.”
Veronica clasped her card with one hand and bit her fingernail with the other. “What’s your table number?” she asked Chloe as she eyed the exit at the back of the lounge.
“I’m eight. You?”
“Table seventeen.” Veronica shifted her weight to the other foot and sighed. “I wish we were together.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” She groaned and ran her hand down her long hair to tame it.
Chloe looped her hand through Veronica’s elbow, preventing her from escaping. “It’ll be fun. Maybe you’ll meet the man of your dreams.”
Veronica snorted as she weaved her way through the other gazillion women there for the event. “That’s highly unlikely. Besides, I’m not one to meet a man in a bar, you know that.”
“Speed dating is different from a regular bar atmosphere.” Chloe’s fingernails dug into Veronica’s arm. “You’ll see.”
“Why didn’t you bring Amanda? She’d have gotten a kick out of this.” She scooted closer to Chloe as another woman pushed past her.
“She’s too busy ... again.”
“Remind me to tell you I’m busy next time.” Veronica stopped and crossed her arms.
Chloe peeked over her shoulder and bounced on her toes. “I see some men outside already. Let’s go sit down.”
Veronica spun her head toward the window again. She’d rather have her fingernails pulled off than talk to random strangers. Why hadn’t she worn something else? All the other women grouped in the entrance were dressed for success … or sex. They wore low-cut blouses, too-tight pants, or short skirts that didn’t leave much to the imagination. In her simple, black dress and gray, fitted jacket, she looked … blah, despite the swooshy scarf she’d grabbed as a flirty addition.
Chloe had already left her side, so Veronica took a deep breath and wound her way to her assigned place, which happened to be an intimate table with two leather-backed chairs. She scooted in, took off her reading glasses, tucked them in her purse, and picked up the pen that sat next to the cocktail menu. She scribbled a calculation on the edge of her Speeding Ticket.
Every time her friend concocted some ridiculous scheme to meet men, she blackmailed Veronica into playing a part in it. This particular plan was over the top. Chloe should know she was a borderline agoraphobic. Twelve to fifteen introductions? She couldn’t even pretend she was a people person for two minutes, how would she do this for two hours?
From table eight, Chloe waved her fingers and crossed her legs, probably trying to look prim and proper. Funny, they both had to act like someone they weren’t.
Veronica squared her shoulders and did a few yoga breaths—in and out, in and out. Her nerves calmed enough for her to order a martini from a passing waiter to help gain more courage. To hell if it had to be liquid courage.
This night was a true example of how far she’d allowed her dating desperation to take her. Yeah, Chloe talked her into the mess, but her mother’s plea to find a man and settle down was what taunted her.
She could do this. Looking at her watch, she nodded her head. Yep. She could endure this for … an hour and a half. Hell.
“I can’t believe she did this to me,” Veronica mumbled to herself but stopped when the lounge doors opened.
The zoo spectators materialized—men of all sizes. There must have been at least thirty of them. Veronica’s heart drummed in her chest and sweat slicked her palms.
Just great.
A short man with a balding head smirked in front of her. Even at a singles event, the nerdy boys searched her out. Although, at a dating event, they really didn’t find her; they were thrown together. Destiny was a bitch. She motioned for him to sit and they began their charade.
“Well, hello.” Baldy pushed his glasses up on his nose.
She pasted on a smile. “Hi, what’s your name?”
“Jason.” He leaned down to look at her card. “And you’re Veronica. Nice name. I believe it originates from Greece, meaning ‘victory.’”
She considered this speed date nothing close to victory already. “So, you know the history of every name?”
“Well”—he let out a pig-sounding laugh—“I love history. Call me a language connoisseur.”
“Okay.” Veronica glanced toward Chloe’s table, intending to glare at her friend. Chloe already had her hand on the poor date’s shoulder.
“In fact,” Baldy continued, “my name means ‘healer’ and I could heal your heart.”
Wow. That was one she’d never heard. Veronica sat up and put both palms on the table. “Interesting line, Jason. Did you know there’s about a one-in-a-million chance a line like that will work on a woman? Can I give you some advice?”
He ran his hand over his nose and sniffed tightly. “Uh, sure.”
“Just be yourself. I’m sure you’re a nice guy. You don’t need a line.”
A bell rang in the distance. “Time’s up, couples. Next table, gentlemen.”
Thank God.
Baldy stood and squinted. “So, can I mark you on my card? You’re a nice lady.”
She smiled sweetly and swished her hair over her shoulder. “Sure, you can mark me on your card.” But there was no way in hell she’d mark him back. Hopefully the poor guy would listen to her advice and find a better date.
“Great.” The man turned on his heel while marking his ticket and walked to the next table.
This was a prime example of why she always had guy friends, but it never led to anything more. Several fellow accountants at Macy’s always came to her for relationship advice. Yet she was the single one.
She gulped down her drink as another man sat in front of her. He wore a suit, had greased-back hair, and smelled like her father’s Old Spice cologne.
Feeling the effects of the gin, Veronica pointed at the new date’s nametag. “So, Edward, what’s your line tonight? Give it to me.”
Taken aback, Edward smirked and followed her bait. “Okay then.” He cleared his throat. “Are you religious? Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”
Veronica winced and shook her finger at him. “Nice try, but a little cheesy.” She pulled out her ticket and put a big X over Edward’s name.
“So, that’s it? I have a better one.”
She held up her finger to order another martini. “Sorry. I’m really only here as moral support for my friend.” And really, how could you get to know a person in five minutes? Veronica would be better off at home, with her Siamese cat, doing Sudoku. She’d already tried the spontaneous dating game; she was not in the mood for this tonight.
For the next
three minutes, they chatted amiably while paying more attention to the other zoo animals in the room than each other. When would this torture end?
It’d been a while since she’d gone on a decent date. For some reason, she attracted the nerdy type ... thick glasses, pocket protectors, the works. Good-looking nerdy types, sometimes. Even the handsome men her mom set her up with usually had their eyes glued to their cell phones or couldn’t go out until they watched the nightly news. Not her type. Now the tall, dark figure from the infamous wedding a few weeks ago, the sex god ... he was her type. Latin, with tattoos paraded on his arm ... and other parts that surprised her.
No one would guess he was the type of man that turned her on. Sweet Veronica had a hidden, seductive side that would shock the bright pink panties off her friends.
After six “dates,” she hadn’t found even one man interesting. Some of them were smoother than the rest. Others were nice guys, but it was all just … boring.
So why not spice it up with the next guy? She could reenact her wedding reception persona. Apparently, she was great at pretending. Look how incredible that night turned out. Though she didn’t expect herself to go that far again, it wouldn’t hurt to have fun through this dating misery. No one here knew her and she’d never see them again. Hell, she could pretend to be anyone. Maybe she could be an anthropologist at the Natural History Museum or a dance teacher at Juilliard.
She pulled her top down a little more and threw her jacket across the back of her chair. She’d tell her next match she was a chef at Madison Park Bistro, one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan.
Ah, here he was, still fiddling with his Speeding Ticket as he grabbed the opposite seat.
When he lifted his head, she froze. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Her fingers touched her parted lips, and she shook her head in disbelief. Had she already had too many martinis or had some sorcery conjured her fantasies?
It was him—her wedding-night adventure. Diego wore a black blazer over a white T-shirt and a furrow in his brow, looking as confused as she felt.
His hands gripped the edge of the table, displaying a few tattoos on his knuckles and his wrists. She didn’t remember that his initials were on his fingers. Even after those hands had been on her body, parts that hadn’t been touched in a long time … just the memory warmed her insides in two seconds flat.
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