Naughty Little Wishes (Birthday Dare)

by Nina Crespo

  “You’re safe.”

  He’d said what was in her thoughts. She’d planned to move but then he’d kissed her. The desire to have him inside of her again toppled reason.

  Drew stirred and she lifted her head. Mussed hair, a morning beard highlighting his kissable mouth, his wide, muscular chest a perfect place to snuggle into and use as a pillow. But he wasn’t her man, and this wasn’t happily-ever-after.

  As if he’d had a similar thought, Drew disentangled himself and sat on the side of the bed. His phone buzzed and chimed. Releasing an exhale, he raked his fingers through his hair and stared at it spinning on the bedside table. It stopped.

  “Tab.” The rasp of his voice melted places inside of her. Her sex clenched as she recalled the hum of his groans on her clit. “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t.” Tab moved to get up. They’d agreed not to do this again. He planned to take the blame. She didn’t want to hear it. Yes, they’d have to talk about last night, but not like this.

  Drew snaked his arm around her waist and had her flat on the mattress before she could blink. “No, you don’t.”

  She struggled. “If you think I’m going to let you force me into hearing you make an excuse or apology about why we slept together, you’re crazy.”

  He pinned her arms above her head and intertwined their legs. “I’m not sorry we slept together. I was fighting my way out of hell last night. I grabbed you. I was rough. I wasn’t completely awake because I thought you were…” He stilled. Too late, he’d already said it. The thin illusion she’d tried to keep intact, at least until she made it out of his bedroom, shattered.

  “You thought I was Shana.” His ex’s name burned her throat. Tears threatened. “Let me go.”

  “No.” He held her in place. “You’re going to let me finish. Yeah, I was dreaming about Shana, but when I woke up I knew exactly where I was.”

  His erection nudged her opening. She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. The urge to spread her legs and let him in was so strong she almost drew blood. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She wasn’t a needy woman who settled for second best.

  “No. Get off me.” Tab pushed against him, and he let her up.

  She snatched up her nightie, not bothering to put it on. As she hurried out the room, it felt as if she’d left her heart on the floor.

  Stuck in the past. Wherever Shana was, she hoped the woman suffered as much as he did for ruining him.

  …

  “I don’t like it.” The twenty-two year old, curvy blonde pouted in the mirror of the private showing room in the dress shop. “This dress makes me look dull. I want something else.”

  Tab massaged her pounding temples and prayed for patience. Two hours of her client’s temper tantrums had gotten old. “We don’t have time to alter more clothes. You have what you need for your honeymoon.”

  How the girl’s conservative, British fiancé had put up with Spandex and Sparkles this long was a mystery. Because he had a remote connection to royalty, the girl acted as if she wore a diamond tiara and was destined for friendship with the Duchess of Cambridge. Please. The guy was so distant from the throne, the closest she’d get to Buckingham Palace was through a high-powered telescope.

  The girl flounced off the pedestal. “I want something classy like this.” She dug through her purse and pulled out a sheet with a photo she’d printed off the internet.

  Tab rolled her eyes heavenward. Give me strength. Strangling clients wasn’t good for business. She’d held her tongue long enough through the girl’s insults and snippy attitude with the seamstress. “Classy? You’re delusional. That dress says you plan to keep your legs open and stay busier than a two-dollar whore on nickel night. What you have on—that’s appropriate for attending your fiancé’s grandmother’s ninetieth birthday party.”

  “I’m paying you.” The girl sneered. “You have to give me what I want.”

  Tab’s temper flared. “Wrong again. Your fiancé’s paying me to keep you from making an ass of yourself in front of his family, and I have a schedule. So ride the smart train with me or take your dollars and nickels and call a taxi. Your choice.”

  The young woman’s mouth bobbed open and shut. She stormed to the dressing room.

  Tab turned wearily to the seamstress. “Sorry.”

  “Oh no. What you said is the best thing I’ve heard all morning.” The middle-aged woman’s grin faded with concern. “Can I get you something for your headache?”

  “Would you? I’d appreciate it.” Tab sat down on the loveseat.

  Since leaving Drew’s bed that morning, she’d felt drained, and her heart ached in the worst way. She kept replaying what Drew had said in her mind. She knew Shana’s ghost haunted him, but hearing Shana had entered into any part of last night made her want to scream. And pack up and leave. Maybe she should have her assistant hunt down something, anything that would take her out of close proximity with him.

  “Here you go.” The seamstress handed Tab a bottled water and pain reliever. “I’d take two if I were you. She called her fiancé. From what I heard, he didn’t take her side, and she’s furious.”

  Great on not having to give the man a refund, not so great in dealing with the backlash. Tab popped the pills in her mouth and chased them down with water. Her stomach roiled. Running late, she hadn’t had time for cereal. She’d settled for a bagel instead. Bad choice, or this thing with Drew upset her more than she realized.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Tab stood and took a step. She wobbled. Oh shit. Grayness swamped her vision and she sank into darkness.

  She came to on the sofa, blinking against the brightness of the light shining from the ceiling.

  “Stay down a little longer.” The seamstress laid her hand firmly on Tab’s arm.

  “Are you knocked up?” Sparkles and Spangles peered over the seamstress’s shoulder.

  “No, I’m not.” Tab rested her hand on her clammy forehead. “Maybe it’s a bug. I heard from one of my clients something is going around.”

  “Like the flu.” The girl backed up and covered her nose and mouth. “I can’t get sick. I’m getting married in a week.”

  No shit. Now she realizes it.

  The seamstress shot the girl and annoyed look. “Wait up front. I’ll be right with you.”

  Tab moved to stand. A faint sound like white noise hummed in her ears, and her head felt heavy. Her knees gave out and she sank back down to the cushions.

  “Is there someone you can call?” The seamstress frowned. “I don’t think you should drive. I hate to put you in a taxi. You’re still pale.”

  Taxi. Someone to call. Maybe this was karma’s way of paying her back for telling off her client. Who could she reach out to for help? Mitch was a possibility, but didn’t Jasmine mention something about when the guys were in the simulator lab, no phones were allowed? Hours could pass before he got her message. She could hunt down Vanessa at Bode-Wynn. It would make them even for standing in for her at the party, but on the other hand, Vanessa hadn’t asked. She’d volunteered. Tab laid her head on the back of the sofa. Or she could do the one thing that made sense. Pull up her big-girl panties and find Drew.

  She placed the call to his office. Margo took the message. As the minutes passed, the pain in her head intensified into a steady throb behind her eyes. Alternating bouts of heat and chill swept over her and she shivered. Her stomach cramped painfully. She closed her eyes, drifting in and out of wakefulness. Images bloomed of Drew kissing her, holding her…calling her Shana’s name. Happiness splintered. I’m not Shana. Why doesn’t he see me? A hand touched her cheek, the coolness of it comforting at first until another chill wracked her body. Tab. Finally, he said her name.

  “Tab, wake up.” It hurt to open her eyes, but she pried them open.

  Drew cupped her cheek. “You’re burning up. Can you stand or do you want me to carry you?”

  Handsome, strong, always in control, a wave of relief moved through her with a shiver. He’d take care o
f her. She was…safe. The word cut through like a knife, and she forced her lids open, wincing against the pain. She needed a ride, not his sympathy, or whatever else he planned to dish out as an excuse.

  She moved away from his hand. “I can walk out. I just need to get my things.”

  “I’ve got them.” The seamstress held her purse and satchel. “I’ll follow you out and don’t worry about your client. We’ll finish the fittings today and she’ll have everything on schedule.”

  “Thanks.” She pushed off from the couch.

  Drew helped her up. A warning look stalled her protests about him keeping his arm around her.

  Inside the car, she leaned back in the seat, head spinning. Sick and helpless. Not the way she wanted to face him again, but things between them kept falling like a cascade of dominoes she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t walk away from the deal. Couldn’t stop herself from caring, and she couldn’t stop Drew from dreaming about Shana.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tab glared up at Drew from the bed. Even pale, without makeup, hair disheveled, and wearing an oversized sleep shirt, she looked cute as hell. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to stay home and take care of me.”

  He sat next to her and laid his hand on her damp forehead. Heat seeped into his palm. “You have a fever. I’m not leaving.”

  She grimaced and opened her mouth, most likely to deliver a scathing comment, but a round of rattling coughs beat her to the punch.

  Tab sank against the pillows propped against the headboard. “I just need to lie down for a few hours. Then you can take me back to the shop to get my car.”

  “No need. I already arranged for it to be dropped off. Where’s your schedule and your client info? I’m cancelling your appointments for today and tomorrow.”

  “I can cancel my own appointments for today. I’m sure I’ll feel fine in the morning. Hand me my phone.”

  “No.”

  “No?” She gave him an incredulous look. “I appreciate you picking me up, but that’s all I need from you. The rest I can handle on my own.”

  Drew tamped down irritation. From the look on her face at the shop, it had killed her to call him. He didn’t want her sick, but if illness provided a way for him to fix what he’d messed up, he’d take advantage. He hated talking about the dream. Stress brought it out even more and right now, he faced a shitload. He’d launched into a bad explanation of it without thinking. He’d tell her the truth if she stopped fighting him on every detail, including her obviously needing to stay in bed.

  “You passed out on your client. You called for my help. I had to pull over twice on the way home because you had to throw up. You’re sick and I’m here to help you until you’re better. Deal with it.”

  The hostility in her face faded to annoyance. “Fine, let me call my assistant.” She scooted past him before he could stop her from getting up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get my phone out of my bag.” She swayed on her feet, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m okay. Let me go.”

  “No. Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m helping you.” He swept her up and laid her on the bed.

  “Why, because of your precious contract?”

  Frustration from their morning, the shock of Margo interrupting his meeting with Tab’s message saying she needed him, driving to pick her up with knots in his gut worrying about her…it all exploded inside of him.

  He leaned down and met her nose to nose. “This has nothing to do with the contract. I care about you being sick. I wasn’t going to deal with this now, but you won’t let it go. Yes, I was dreaming about being in the accident with Shana, but I was wide awake when I kissed you. And I definitely knew who was under me. I was hard for you, Tab, not Shana. And if you weren’t sick, I’d keep you in bed all afternoon to make sure you got it through your thick head.”

  “Oh.” Anger made it hard for him to appreciate her expression of wild-eyed bewilderment.

  He breathed in, took his anger down a notch and stood. “You’re not working today or tomorrow. After that, we’ll take it day by day. One call. No arguments.”

  She made her call, studying him the whole time, and gave the phone back.

  He handed her a glass of water and cold-and-flu pills. She took the medicine and moved farther under the covers. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes.

  Now, he needed to clear his own schedule. With Devin still in San Diego, he hesitated taking time off. He’d work from his home office and use the latest and greatest tech equipment he’d installed and never used. Establishing the changes with Margo went smoothly. He changed clothes, checked on Tab, and focused on work.

  For the next two days, his world narrowed to keeping her hydrated and feeding her what little food she’d take. He slept in late, a luxury he’d never allowed himself during the week. Training switched to his home gym with treadmill runs, miles on a stationary bike, and laps in the pool. He hovered close by when he heard her moving around upstairs, but gave her the space she seemed to need. She’d erected an invisible wall to keep him at a distance. He couldn’t blame her. No, they weren’t in a relationship, but Shana had no place in the equation of them hooking up. It had never appeared as an obstacle in the past, but he’d also never actually slept with anyone else after having sex.

  He took advantage of his third peaceful, late morning and floated in the pool after completing laps. During the past four years, how much time had he actually spent at his house? A place to sleep, entertain clients, keep his possessions, park his cars, but he’d never used his house like a home, or shared space with anyone, since Shana. He’d never had a reason until now. Having Tab in his home, taking care of her, oddly, it felt…good.

  He showered and checked on Tab. For the first time, she slept soundly instead of fighting the covers. The drugging effect of medicine knocked her out completely. He touched her forehead and brushed her cheek. Cool skin. Finally.

  As he jogged downstairs, his stomach growled. She’d need to eat, too, maybe something more substantial today. While he finished a turkey sandwich, he took a call from Margo. He switched to speakerphone, and without fully thinking about it, he gathered up ingredients. Two calls later, smells of chicken, garlic, and herbs permeated the air.

  The last time he’d made his grandfather’s chicken soup recipe was how long ago? A vision flashed in, illusive and distant, of a rainy day in Virginia, and the apartment he’d shared with Shana. She’d never liked the domestication of preparing meals and preferred to eat out.

  He went to his home office and read reports. The timer chimed. When he walked into the room with a tray, Tab sat up.

  She coughed. “That smells wonderful, but I don’t have an appetite.”

  Drew put the tray on her lap and sat down on the bed. “Try some.” He dipped out a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and held it up to her lips.

  “Chicken soup.” She closed her mouth around the spoon and swallowed. “Which restaurant is this from?”

  “I made it. Don’t look so shocked.” He used her openmouthed stare as an opportunity to spoon in more.

  “You don’t look like the mama’s-recipe type.”

  “Grandfather’s.” A strange look passed through her eyes. She remained silent, staring expectantly between spoonfuls for the rest of the story. Seeing it as an opportunity to keep her quiet and fed, he obliged. “He was a country doctor in Kentucky. Homemade chicken soup was one of his prescriptions for taking care of colds and flu.”

  “So everyone in your family wasn’t a Northern blueblood.”

  He stirred the soup. “My grandfather met my grandmother when he was working with a colleague for the summer in Connecticut. They eloped and went back to Kentucky.”

  Mischievousness overtook the fatigue in her eyes. “Sounds juicy, did it cause a scandal?”

  “Yeah, a big one.” He fed her more soup, debating a walk through family history. “But from what I understand, my grandmother wasn’t easily intimida
ted. She ignored everyone’s objections and stayed with him. Unfortunately, she died four years after they were married. He sent my father back to her parents. When I was in grade school, I thought I wanted to be a doctor, so I used to spend holidays with him.”

  “Doctor, huh? What changed?”

  “Football, track, girls, I was easily distracted. My grandfather was the one who suggested I join the Navy. He always had a sense about what was right for people.”

  Tab’s humor, openness, and feistiness would have won his grandfather over completely…unlike Shana. Doubt had clearly shown in his eyes when he’d met her. After he’d announced his engagement to Shana, his grandfather had asked him to come to Kentucky for a visit, alone. He’d avoided it, fearing his grandfather would want to talk him out of getting married. A few weeks later, the one person who’d listened to him, steered him in directions other than winning the biggest trophy or making the top of the list died. He’d rushed to the hospital to see him, but didn’t make it in time. What would his grandfather say about his life, his choices today?

  Tab’s light touch to his arm brought him back, and her soft gaze held his. “It sounds like he was a good man.”

  Drew cleared tightness from his throat. “Yeah, he was.”

  She shook her head to the offer of more soup and lay back on the pillows. “Thanks, but I better stop and see how this settles.”

  He picked up the tray and stood.

  “No, don’t go.” She touched his arm. “Stay. Talk to me.”

  He needed to go downstairs to the office, make calls, read the latest progress reports.

  Sincerity shone in her eyes instead of the cloud of illness and cold meds that had dulled her gaze. Did this mean she’d forgiven him?

  He set the tray on the nightstand. “About what?”