Date With a Diva

by Joanne Rock

  “Sorry about that.” Her voice caught in her throat, a rather foreign sensation for a woman who’d built a career around being outspoken.

  “I’m not.” Nico’s fingers fanned out against her back, the broad palms already covering plenty of terrain. “In fact, I can’t remember the last time I felt this good.”

  Me neither. Lainie knew she couldn’t fall into his arms. She had zero capacity to think rationally because she was under the influence. Therefore, she couldn’t make such a big decision.

  But if she could have based the decision on the lust pumping through her right now, she would be wrestling this man’s clothes off already.

  Her breasts ached against him while her thighs tingled with pleasure to be tangled with his. Heat shot through her to bombard the juncture of her legs…

  And damned if she wasn’t twitching and wriggling like a cat in heat.

  Regret burning her throat, she eased away. “You can’t remember the last time?” She tossed his words back at him, taking comfort in confrontation. “Come on, Cesare. You’re a hockey star. Women must throw themselves at your feet all the time.”

  He steadied her shoulders as she wove her way up the beach toward the street. The sooner she got back to the safety—the solitude—of Club Paradise the better.

  “Actually, you’re the first woman to nearly fall at my feet, but I thought I did a damn good job keeping you upright.” His arm remained anchored around her waist as they walked, even though she’d tried to slide away.

  Probably just as well. It would be the crowning cap to a hideous day if she fell down on the street because she’d imbibed too much tonight.

  Although if she planned her landing just right, maybe she could find a way to show off that French lingerie when she fell.

  “Thank you. I appreciate the hand since it was your dubious advice that inspired me to be such a bad girl tonight.” She hadn’t meant it to sound like a come-on, but her tone practically dripped a do-me vibe.

  He slid a sideways glance at her. “I’m not touching that one.”

  “Thank you.” She gulped and hoped she’d swallowed back whatever wanton demon lurked within her. Although, she had to admit, being bad had never sounded quite so good. “I don’t know how it jumped out of my mouth anyway.”

  “I do. Kentucky bourbon. I’m nominating it as an alternate form of truth serum.” His long legs took slow, easy strides that translated into hyperspeed for Lainie. She wasn’t a short woman by any stretch of the imagination, but this guy was tall. Of course, her stride was inhibited by a slim miniskirt.

  They headed left toward Ocean Drive once they neared South Beach. On the north end of Miami Beach, Collins Avenue ran along the water, but as the streets descended, Ocean Drive routed drivers even closer to the shoreline.

  “Truth serum?” Lainie chose to focus on her repartee with the arm candy beside her instead of how many more blocks they needed to walk before she could sit down again. Her head was spinning, screwing with her balance, her pulse rate…and her damn over-active hormones. “Maybe we ought to dump a little more of it down your throat then. I think I got robbed on your half of the story. How did you meet the wench who dropped you as soon as you were down on your luck?”

  Nico turned his head to the side—sort of down and away from her so she couldn’t see his expression. Had she been too insulting? She craned her head across his body to see his face and swayed on her sandals.

  His grip tightened around her waist as his chin swiveled toward her again. He smothered a smile. “She’s not a wench.”

  “Whatever. I’m sorry I’m too inebriated to think of more diplomatic names for users.” Admiring the way he hadn’t sold out his girlfriend, she glanced around the street to get her bearings, fighting a dizzy spell. The heat was killing her and Club Paradise seemed miles away. “Will you stop a minute while I take off my jacket?”

  Her escort halted immediately. “You want me to call a cab?” He reached in his shorts pocket and withdrew a phone.

  “That’s okay.” Wriggling her way out of the linen sleeves, she faced the sultry Miami heat in the silk shell she’d worn under her suit. Even now that the sun had set, the pavement still radiated the absorbed warmth of the day. “If I can’t make it back, we can just find a bar and get a nightcap to refresh me.”

  Nico blinked. “I know I must have had too much of that damn brew of yours when an idea like that actually makes sense.”

  “Do you mean to say you’re as pickled as me?”

  He eyed her critically. “Probably not.”

  “I thought big guys had tons of tolerance when it came to alcohol.” She continued down the street, knowing she needed to make some serious headway in their trek back to Club Paradise before her liquid knees gave out.

  “I always preferred the high of fierce competition.” His arm tightened around her as she walked. “And don’t underestimate the alcohol content of that insane backwoods potion you’re packing.”

  She gasped as he tugged her closer, the side of her breast brushing up against his chest somehow. Probably because her arm had found its way around his waist, too. Now when had that happened?

  Dizziness assailed her again, and this time she wasn’t so sure the bourbon had been at fault. She stopped short, suddenly realizing she couldn’t go any farther without addressing the heat wave between them.

  “Maybe we’d better get that nightcap I mentioned.” Pushing her damp hair from her forehead, she hoped she didn’t look like a drunken, sweaty train wreck. She glanced around the street as the dinner crowd began to emerge from local restaurants, ready for more hard-core entertainment. Nightlife sizzled on the strip.

  “There’s a hotel with a bar two doors down.”

  Nico’s eyes widened for a split second before they narrowed to cunning slits. Heat seemed to steam from that dark gaze of his.

  “And which exactly are we interested in?” Nico walked her backward toward a telephone booth until they were out of the way of people walking on the street. His hands curved around her waist, his fingers burning right through the sheer fabric of her blouse. The look in his dark eyes was hot enough to make her lick her lips.

  “What do you mean?” She barely recognized her breathless voice, and she hoped he wasn’t asking what she thought he might be asking because she was in no condition to make an intelligent choice.

  His lips loomed above hers, close enough to brush against her own if she arched up just a little bit. Awareness danced over her skin, tingling most in the places her decadent lingerie covered.

  “Which are we really looking for right now, Lainie—the hotel or the bar?”

  3

  A SMARTER MAN wouldn’t have pushed the issue. Nico realized that as soon as Lainie and all her sweet curves pulled away from him. A wiser man would have gone with the flow until the flow led to sliding between the sheets with this slightly tipsy siren. As he stared at her flushed cheeks, he wondered if a bourbon buzz would make it easier for her to have multiple orgasms or if that was just wishful thinking.

  “And I thought I was full of myself?” She shook her head, her sleek blond hair sticking close to her scalp as if it had been too well trained to do otherwise.

  “You’re one big walking, talking ego.”

  So maybe he couldn’t honestly deny that charge. Still, he needed to make up for lost ground before he chased her away for good. “Sorry. Guess I wasn’t thinking straight with all that—” his eyes jumped down her body without his permission, taking in her hips, lingering on her breasts “—sensory overload to contend with.”

  He could have been either sitting in a nice, air-conditioned bar with her right now or burning up the sheets and finding out firsthand how aggressive Lainie Reynolds would be in bed. Instead, he had pissed her off because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself for more than five seconds at a time.

  Well done, jackass.

  “You’re right.”

  What?

  “You’re kidding.” He felt
his eyes go wide. Since when was he right about anything when it came to women? He’d been screwing up in one form or another since college when he told Patti Lee Watkins he couldn’t go to a party because he needed to practice his slap shot. Could he help it if he was a really honest guy? He’d remained a slave to hockey even though eventually he’d gotten laid despite himself, but right up until his last girlfriend dumped him, he’d continued to be oblivious about what women wanted to hear.

  “I wasn’t thinking straight, either. Partly because of the bourbon, partly because of the hormones in overdrive. And if I’m not thinking clearly, why should I expect you to?”

  She nodded toward the street, obviously ready to continue their hike and not even bothering to pout at him. Damn but she was mature. He hoped he could keep pace with this woman.

  “You sure you don’t need a drink before we go?” He wanted to make up for being a heel. And she’d wanted a nightcap. Every woman’s code name for sex, right? Still, maybe she was thirsty. “Let me get you something.”

  Before she could refuse, Nico scouted Ocean Drive for possibilities and found a churro stand, a Greek restaurant and—thankfully—an ice-cream vendor pushing a silver insulated freezer cart. “You can take ice cream on the road. Name your flavor, Lainie. It’s on me.”

  Her steps slowed, her eyes, which had been mildly glazed before, now starting to clear as they locked on the ice-cream source. “I suppose I could be swayed with the promise of sweets. How about an Italian ice instead? Raspberry, I think.”

  “Way to go out on a limb there and be decadent. Do you ever indulge yourself completely?” Thankful he could do something to smooth things out between them, Nico ordered a triple scoop of chocolate pecan for himself along with her flavored ice. He handed her a stack of napkins and her wooden spoon while they waited.

  Shrugging, she unwrapped the wooden stick that served as a utensil. “My job is all about image. When I was an attorney, the best way to attract clients was to be the consummate professional. And now that I’m working with Club Paradise, the hotel is a reflection of me. I make an effort to always keep it together, although you’ve seen firsthand today that I’m not always successful.”

  So she’d sipped some bourbon on the day her husband was held without bail. Big deal. Didn’t she ever indulge in ice cream? In hot sweaty sex just for the sake of the thrill?

  They walked down the street in the evening heat, the neon lights from the signs playing off the pastel-colored buildings to create a perpetual turquoise-and-pink glow. Lainie dug into her ice with her flat stick, the effects of the bourbon seeming to lessen as they walked and ate.

  Nico couldn’t decide if that was good or bad for him. He polished off his cone within a few blocks, long before she nibbled down the so-called treat she’d ordered.

  “I believe Giselle mentioned something to me before she left about one of her brothers stopping by the club to check on the kitchens for her while she’s away. Would that be you or one of her other siblings?”

  “That would be me.” His arm slipped around her as a crowd of rowdy, college-age guys piled out of a bar nearby.

  She raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Yeah, that feel-good bourbon haze was definitely fading.

  “Sorry. It’s a guy thing.” His arm slid away from her only through great willpower. “Automatic reflex.”

  Nodding, she tossed the paper cup and the stick from her ice in a trash can. “It’s okay. But I was thinking maybe we’d better forget today ever happened once we get back to the hotel.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Excuse me?” Her tone assured him she hadn’t been refused many times in her life.

  “I couldn’t forget today if you bribed me with an NHL contract. I’m attracted as hell to you, in case you haven’t guessed already, and a guy just doesn’t go home and forget about that.”

  “Nico, I’m flattered, but let me assure you I’m in no position to act on any kind of attraction right now.” She squeezed her temples with her fingers as if the hangover headache was already setting in. “Not that I’m saying the attraction is two-way or anything.”

  God forbid.

  “What’s wrong with your position?” He enjoyed the view as he watched her strut down the street with her linen skirt still remarkably wrinkle free and her suit jacket folded neatly over her arm. “It looks damn good from where I’m standing.”

  She couldn’t give him the brush-off now. Her siren’s body had been melting in his arms half an hour ago, damn it. He’d been watching her for weeks and he was already halfway to obsessed. One thing was certain, if Lainie didn’t like her current position, he had at least ten others in mind that would definitely please her.

  LAINIE WAS NOT PLEASED.

  Ever since she’d perfected her cool, dismissive look in law school, she’d been able to keep men at arm’s length with no trouble. Men simply didn’t chase her. Even in the case of her husband, she’d been the one to pursue him. Why wasn’t Nico taking the very specific hints?

  “Look, I’m sure you’re used to women falling all over you with your jock appeal and your superstar status and all that.” Could she help it if just a touch of sarcasm crept into her words? “But I’ve got a hotel to run and a bitter divorce still weighing me down like a Mack truck around my neck. I’m just trying to be honest with you about what you can expect from me.”

  “Which I’m rapidly realizing is nothing, according to you.” His voice hummed a bit too close to her ear as they edged past a crowd gathering outside the velvet ropes of a new nightclub Lainie had been meaning to check out.

  A shiver tripped through her at his nearness. She couldn’t deny a little thrill at the way he maneuvered her through the milling people. His protective arm around her now and then might be a tad chauvinistic, but it left her no doubt he’d be quick to make sure nobody messed with her. Her shiver was an unusual sensation for a woman long accustomed to watching out for herself.

  Still, she couldn’t afford to get tied up in knots by a man again. Not now. Maybe not ever. Her divorce from Robert had ripped her raw and then turned her inside out. But since she had no intention of discussing the scarred state of her heart with Nico, she settled for counting down the more obvious, logical reasons that they would be all wrong together.

  “For starters, did I mention how devastating it was to have your sister pull out as executive chef here last month? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled she’s happy, but you have to see how difficult it’s been filling her shoes.” Giselle’s contribution to the resort had been bigger than Lainie realized, and although Nico’s sister maintained ownership of the controlling shares, she left a hell of a void in her place.

  One that the new chef hadn’t come close to filling, but Lainie was crossing her fingers the woman learned quickly.

  When Nico didn’t respond right away, she hurried on. “And did you know we’ve got a film crew coming to town to shoot a movie at Club Paradise?”

  “What movie?”

  “The press release called it a sexy action-adventure drama, if that tells you anything. Didn’t Giselle tell you—Crap.”

  “What?”

  “I forgot to tell Giselle about it. I thought maybe Summer or Brianne would tell her. It was Brianne’s industry contacts that led to the club being used as a filming location. Did you know she used to be a director in New York before she invested in the resort and took over security?” Lainie hoped maybe if she threw out enough smoke-and-mirrors conversation, Nico would forget about her dictate that they go separate ways when they reached the hotel. She was feeling a little less weak-kneed now that she’d had something to eat, but she still had enough bourbon chugging through her system not to trust herself to make rational arguments tonight.

  “Giselle told me. Not about the movie, but about Brianne having worked in film.” He spoke absently, taking out the Hacky Sack that he toyed with like a lucky charm. Tossing the beanbag up in the air as he walked, he caught it three times in quick success
ion and then jammed it back in his pocket. “Having the movie filmed here—that’s huge. Did you happen to catch the name of it?”

  “It’s called Diva’s Last Dance. You see why I’m up to my eyeballs right now? We’re down a partner and we’ve got to be more impressive than ever. I just think it would be easier if we—”

  “You’re not down a partner.” He gestured to something up the street. “The resort is within view now. You think you’ll be okay the rest of the way?”

  She nodded, no longer tired thanks to his intriguing and potentially worrisome comment. “What do you mean we’re not down a partner? Your sister has practically turned into Ms. Peace Corps now that she’s overseas, and she’s so damn starry-eyed in love I’d be surprised if she ever comes back to the club.” Did he know something she didn’t know?

  They passed a group of drag queens dishing and primping in front of their compacts on the next street corner. The crowd of oversize men dressed in sexy dresses openly ogled Nico with whistles and catcalls. He made them all squeal by blowing them a kiss.

  Lainie nearly commented on his obvious comfort with the locals until she realized he might be pulling his own version of conversational smoke and mirrors.

  Before she could get back on track, he continued. “I’ve read about this movie. It’s a hot psychological drama where the heroine goes undercover to track a killer and ends up confronting the ghosts of her own past. Bram Hawthorne—the guy who’s supposed to be the next Tom Cruise—is in it.”

  “Do I look like I’m lacking a pulse? Of course I know who Bram Hawthorne is. I didn’t recognize the female lead’s name though.”

  “Rosaria Graham. And trust me, guys know who she is.”

  “Oh really?” She didn’t like Rosaria already. Not that she cared who Nico Cesare spent his time drooling over.

  “I’ve read a few things about the movie, I just didn’t know that some of it was being shot in Miami. But I heard the first actress quit because the script called for really graphic love scenes, so they called in Rosaria who has done a couple of mild adult films.” He cleared his throat. “Or so I’ve heard.”