I Need You Tonight

by Stina Lindenblatt

  I finished the final bite of my pasta and willed the waitress to return with our bill. Clearly I didn’t will hard enough. Several painfully long minutes ticked past before she came back to remove our empty plates.

  “Would you like to order dessert?” she asked us.

  “No, I’m good,” I said, faster than a rabbit being chased by a mountain lion, and counted down the seconds until Bruce Willis, the triple-fudge almond ice cream, and I could hang out together. Please don’t order anything else, I silently pleaded to Carl.

  “Maybe you’d like to share something?” he asked.

  I patted my flat stomach, hidden under my sexy black dress. The sexy black dress that Heidi had insisted I wear tonight. “I’m full.”

  He winced, possibly understanding what I really meant, and asked for the bill. He paid for our food and drove me home, the entire time quizzing me on the store’s accounting strategy.

  Forget another glass of wine. I needed a bottle of my finest ten-dollar-a-bottle white.

  “I had a great time,” he said, walking me to my front door.

  “Me too.” I sneaked a glance at the cloudless dark sky, with stars speckled across it. No lightning bolts appeared. I let out a relieved breath. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

  “You too.” Before I could take a step back, he leaned in to kiss me. I moved my head at the last second, and his lips missed mine and landed on my cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  I translated that as “Don’t expect to hear from me again,” or maybe that was just wishful thinking. “Okay.”

  His footsteps receded down the sidewalk as I unlocked the front door and turned the doorknob. Without looking back to see if he was watching, I pushed the door open. Or tried to. As usual, it refused to budge.

  I’d been meaning to fix the problem for the past few months. And I would…as soon as I figured out how. In the meantime, I stuck with the proven method for opening the door. With a solid shove of my shoulder against the dark-stained wood, I pushed the door open.

  Rubbing my shoulder with my fingers, I slipped inside the house.

  After tonight, I didn’t care what Heidi said; there would be no more blind dates. Same deal with Cindy’s attempts to set me up. Before tonight, the last lame date, with a guy whose name currently eluded me, had been Cindy’s contribution to their goal of finding me a boyfriend who fit my criteria of the perfect man. Too bad the perfect man sounded a lot better on paper than he was proving to be in reality.

  I flipped on the light switch. Darkness continued to embrace me. Great. The lightbulb had burned out last night, which I’d forgotten about. Fumbling around in the dark, I kicked off the black stilettos Heidi had also suggested I wear tonight.

  Fortunately, the light on the stairs was still working. I walked upstairs to my bedroom and grabbed my pajama bottoms with the cute pandas on them, as well as the white tank top with a matching panda on the front. Perfect post-bad-date clothing. In the bathroom I changed out of my dress, washed my face, and pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail.

  My phone rang from where I was charging it in my bedroom. I ignored it, figuring it was Heidi wondering how the date had gone. I didn’t have the energy to tell her. Instead, I entered the kitchen and headed for the freezer—and my date for the remainder of the night.

  The doorbell rang, and for a second I considered ignoring it. But even with the hallway light not working, whoever was outside could tell someone was home. And if it was one of my neighbors, I didn’t want to be rude.

  I walked down the hallway, the only illumination coming from the kitchen behind me, and yanked the front door open, using my body weight to help me. Beatrice, my sixty-five-year-old neighbor, was standing in the glow of the porch light. She was the same sixty-five-year-old widow who had baked me cookies the day I’d moved into the tiny old house. The same sixty-five-year-old widow who had shared on more than one occasion her dating wisdom. Too bad for me it originated from the 1800s…or close enough.

  “Hello, my dear,” she said. “I saw that your gentleman friend dropped you off, and I wanted to talk to you before you went to bed. Is this a good time?”

  I could practically hear the ice cream groan from the freezer. “Sure, it’s fine.” I stepped away from the door to let her in. “Sorry, the hallway light doesn’t work.”

  She peered up at the porch light, where tiny gray moths were going berserk, fluttering around it. “That’s all right. We can talk out here. I won’t be long. I just wanted to tell you that my medical appointment in L.A. was moved up to tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could look after Bernie while I’m away.” Bernie was her dog. “I’ll be back in five days.”

  “That’s fine. I love spending time with him.” At least he would be a more enjoyable “date” than the guys I’d gone out with lately. And at the rate I was going, he was the closest thing so far to my goal of a husband, two-point-four kids, a dog, and a cat.

  “And he loves spending time with you,” she said. “I’m leaving at seven-fifteen tomorrow morning, but I won’t have time to take him for his daily walk.”

  “I’ll take him.”

  “You’re such a dear. I don’t know what I would do without you. So, tell me…how did the date go?” At my grimace, she chuckled and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Nicole. You’re a sweet and beautiful woman. You’ll find your Prince Charming one day soon.”

  Forget Prince Charming. I just wanted a man who wasn’t anything like my father. Hence my list of what I was looking for in a man, the top four traits being that he was a professional with a good steady job, didn’t have any bad habits or addictions, was kind, and had a good sense of humor. Heidi had added the requirement that his life not revolve around his job. She’d spoken from experience when it came to her own father.

  Beatrice left and I closed the door. As I was heading back to the kitchen, my doorbell rang again. Figuring she’d remembered some instructions she’d forgotten to tell me, I returned to the door and yanked it open…then blinked.

  Instead of my neighbor, a man who was easily six inches taller than me stood on the porch. Even in the poor lighting, his skin was a gorgeous warm brown. Shaved-short black hair peeked from under a gray beanie, something I could’ve guaranteed tonight’s date from hell wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing. Too bad for him. There was a slight chance I had a thing for men in beanies.

  Okay, make that a big chance.

  The stranger’s T-shirt stretched across his defined chest and shoulder muscles and revealed strong, tattooed arms. With his lush, sexy lips and chocolate-brown eyes, he was sex-on-a-stick and then some.

  Except sex-on-a-stick looked very familiar.

  “Mason?” That was all the Rolodex in my brain could come up with when it came to his name. But that was because I didn’t think Zack had ever told me his last name. Mason had hung out at our place from time to time. Not enough so that we became good friends or anything. But enough to know that he was funny and a nice guy.

  A nice guy who had a thing for cookies. Whenever I used to bake them, I swear he’d eat at least a dozen in a single sitting.

  Mason gave me the once-over in a non-sleazy way, as if evaluating me for signs of injury. Once the appraisal was complete, his lips curled up to one side, possibly due to my panda pajamas. “Cute PJs.”

  “I think so.” I grinned while several questions in my head battled it out—the number one being what Zack’s friend was doing here. As far as I knew, he didn’t live in Desert Springs. “If you’re looking for Zack, he’s off on another mission in Europe.” Being in the navy, he’d seen a lot more of the world than I had.

  “Zack actually sent me to check up on you. He was worried about you. He’s been texting you, but you haven’t been responding.”

  “I accidentally dropped my cellphone and apparently it didn’t appreciate the sidewalk making nice with it. I didn’t have a chance to get it fixed for several days, and only got it back today after work. I haven’t had a chance to read the m
essages yet.”

  The smirk was back on his face. “That would do it.”

  “You don’t live here now, do you?”

  “No. L.A.”

  “So you drove all this way from L.A. just to see if I was okay?” That sounded like the Mason I remembered. In high school, he had driven across the city to rescue Zack after his truck broke down while on a date.

  “That’s right.”

  And because of that, my next words came without a second thought. “I’m about to eat ice cream and watch Die Hard. You’re more than welcome to join me if you want.”

  Chapter 3

  Mason

  For a second, all I could do was hope Nicole didn’t notice the effect she was having on my dick. When Zack had asked me to check on his little sister, I hadn’t expected to find that the awkward fifteen-year-old had turned into a sexy woman—her blond hair in a messy ponytail, her face free of makeup, and wearing pajama bottoms with cartoon pandas on them. I hadn’t expected to find her braless, if the way her nipples pressed against the fabric of her tank top were anything to go by.

  I also hadn’t expected her to invite me in to eat ice cream and watch Die Hard with her—because what girl watches Die Hard?

  But no way in hell was I saying no to that.

  “What flavor?” I asked.

  “Triple-fudge almond. The good stuff.”

  One eyebrow jerked up. “What’s the special occasion?”

  “Does there need to be one?”

  I placed my hand on the chipped doorframe above her head. “Let me rephrase that. I have a sister, and the only time she used to eat the good stuff was when she had boy problems. And Die Hard isn’t exactly your standard chick flick.”

  She shrugged, her shoulders pale and delicate. But the shrug had a touch of sass—the same sass I remembered from all those years ago. “What can I say? I happen to love the movie. It’s filled with action, love, and redemption. And Alan Rickman always played the best evil guys. And did I mention there’s lots of action?”

  I laughed. “I’ll give you that. And I definitely won’t argue against the movie. It’s one of my favorites….So, you’re telling me you’re not dealing with boyfriend problems?”

  She snorted a laugh. “Does a series of really bad dates count?”

  I pulled my hand away from the doorframe. “I’d say that counts. And yes, I’d love to watch the movie with you and eat ice cream.”

  I entered her house and she locked the door behind me, then I followed her down the dark hallway toward the warm light. We stepped into the small kitchen. Whoever had decorated the place had a thing for avocado green. Green cabinets. Green fridge. Green linoleum floor. Even the yellowing wallpaper had green in it—along with brown—and reminded me of pineapples. Large, hideous pineapples.

  “Wow,” I said as Nicole picked up her phone from the counter. “The seventies called and they want their kitchen back.”

  “I know,” she said with a grimace, “it’s pretty bad. Zack likes to refer to it as the frog-got-caught-in-the-blender room.”

  “More like a gremlin. The large, ugly kind from the movie.”

  Nicole laughed and typed something on her phone. “Hey, I love that movie. But yeah, you do have a point.”

  At those words I pretty much fell in love with her, but who wouldn’t when she had such great taste in movies? Luckily, the guys in the band had no idea that I loved Gremlins. They would revoke my man card if they knew.

  “I bought the house from an old couple who lived here most of their lives,” she said. “I’m slowly redecorating it.” Very slowly, from the look of things.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand. She checked the screen and grinned. “Zack says hi, and told me to play nice with you because you’re a good guy.”

  I laughed, mostly because I appreciated that he felt that way after everything that had happened in the past. If I was a good guy, he was the goddamn pope.

  While I appreciated the view of her fine ass, which I didn’t remember her having before, she grabbed two bowls from the cupboard, put them on the counter, then took down a wineglass as well. She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Would you like some wine? I’m having some. It’s been one of those days.”

  “Do you have any beer?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “Wine’s fine.”

  She got another glass and retrieved the ice cream from the freezer. She then loaded the bowls with a healthy amount, which let me know just how crappy her series of bad dates had been. After that, she filled our glasses and led me to the small living room. As with the kitchen, it was like stepping back in time, with hideous puke-green shag carpeting and dark wood paneling.

  The furniture at least looked to be from this century, although there wasn’t much to it—just a love seat, armchair, coffee table, and large-screen TV.

  She parked her bowl and glass on the table and loaded the Die Hard DVD into the machine.

  I sank onto the love seat and waited for her to join me. For a second I thought she was going to take her bad-date sustenance over to the armchair, but she plopped herself down next to me. And for the first time since arriving at her house, I noticed her sweet yet subtle floral perfume. It was different from the type I was used to with groupies and the women who were interested in nothing more than a quick lay. Their fragrance was always sensual, aimed to seduce. Not so with Nicole’s scent…yet I was still hyperaware of her sitting next to me.

  Lay off, Dell. She’s the little sister of your friend, the guy you owe your life to.

  The movie began—and I had to say the ice cream girls ate to get over boy problems was definitely the best. This wasn’t the cheap crap. This ice cream meant business.

  “Christ, this is good,” I said, lifting my bowl so Nicole knew what the heck I was talking about.

  She gave me an I know, right? smile, then shrugged. “I had a feeling I would need it tonight.”

  Shit, just how bad had her last dates been? Not that I would be much of a judge when it came to determining what made for a good date or not. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been on one. I wasn’t exactly the dating type—more like the screw-’em-and-leave-’em type. None of the women I’d been with lately had complained about that. I doubted any of them had left the arena in need of ice cream to get over a great fuck. If anything, they had always left looking satisfied.

  “Have you ever tried that?” Nicole asked when we got to the part in the movie where Bruce Willis removed his shoes in the bathroom and curled his toes in the carpet. It was supposed to help with jet lag, but in reality it was to leave Bruce vulnerable in a later scene, when he was running around barefooted and one of the bad guys shot out the glass. Bruce’s feet were cut to shreds. It was one of the best scenes in the movie.

  “No, have you?” I asked.

  “I haven’t really traveled much. Nothing like Zack. Guess I haven’t had the chance.”

  “Because you’re a workaholic?”

  She laughed, the sweetest, sexiest sound I’d ever heard. My dick twitched with interest, having missed my earlier reminder that Nicole was off-limits. “Zack told you that, huh?”

  “So you’re not?” I asked.

  “According to my best friend, I am.”

  “But you disagree?”

  She shrugged again, her shoulders tempting me to run my tongue along the soft skin. “I like what I do. And besides, I don’t have a choice.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She pulled her feet onto the couch and tucked them next to her. The movement shifted her body, so only a couple of inches now separated us. For some reason, I wanted to shorten the distance between us even further. I craved to touch her, taste her, explore her. Everything I wasn’t supposed to do to my friend’s little sister.

  I reached for my glass and took a long sip of wine.

  “My best friend and I own a floral boutique,” she explained. “But it doesn’t run itself. Heidi is brilliant at arranging the flowers, but sh
e’s at a loss when it comes to the business side. That means I have to put in the long hours to make sure everything’s done.”

  “Do you enjoy it?”

  “Yeah, I do. Plus I’m always working on ways to attract new customers, and that allows me to exercise my creative side.” She smiled, and damn if my cock didn’t respond once more. The smile was nothing like the deliberately seductive smile of groupies. Like everything else about her, it was sweet and innocent, yet sexy as hell, especially when teamed with her panda pajamas.

  Unconsciously, my body leaned toward her, enough so her shoulder brushed against my chest. It was barely a touch, but that didn’t stop an electrifying hum from vibrating through my body. I drained my glass.

  Nicole did the same with hers, and for a fleeting moment I wondered if her body had reacted to the touch the same way mine had. “Let me get some more wine,” she said.

  Before I could say anything, she pushed herself off the couch and left the room. She returned with the bottle of white wine and filled our glasses. Then she sat next to me again, her body practically cuddling against me, and for a goddamn second I hungered for her to do just that.

  I pushed the urge away and continued watching the movie.

  Bruce Willis killed a bad guy and sat him on a chair in the elevator with a message scrawled on the guy’s T-shirt. This angered the dead man’s brother, who now thirsted for revenge…and nothing would stand in the way of his getting it.

  I tried not to think about what Zack would do if he knew how much I craved to sink inside his sister. He wouldn’t try to kill me, right? Not after he’d gone through all that trouble to save my sorry ass last time.

  “Do you have any siblings other than your sister?” Nicole asked, her words tearing me away from thoughts of what else I’d like to do with her that Zack would frown on. I guess during all those times I’d seen her in the past, the topic of my family had never come up.

  “A brother. We aren’t close like you and Zack.” Epic understatement of the century.