by Jamie Wesley
“Having fun?” All the unpleasantness disappeared from Tate’s voice. He actually sounded amused.
It broke the spell she was under. Seeing her hand resting on his chest like it had found its rightful home, she snatched it away and retreated a much-needed step out of the sphere of his overwhelming charisma. Hoping her heart, which had picked up speed and was still tripping along alarmingly fast, would calm down. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that all I get after saving you from Don Juan’s clutches?” His lips, which really should be outlawed for being so distracting, stretched into a way-too-charming smile.
Not that she was affected by a charming smile, of course. “How did you…?”
“How did I know you were having trouble getting rid of him? Because I’ve been watching you, Doctor. I’m the only person who meets with your constant disapproval. Everyone else is a wounded soul who needs your help.”
Noelle took the second sitting on a stool allowed her before answering. “Yeah, well, that’s because I know you can’t be saved. You are who you are.”
“Damn straight.” Tate leaned against the pub-height table, putting him much too close for her comfort. He smelled incredible, but that was a given. She should be used to it by now.
She forced herself to look him in the eye. “But be that as it may, you still helped me out of a sticky situation. Thank you.”
He grinned. “See. I knew you had it in you to be nice to me.”
She inclined her head. “Of course that begs the question—why did you do something nice for me? I thought you enjoyed watching me squirm.”
“I do.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits.
“But the situation was going from amusing to potentially scary, so I stepped in.”
“Oh.” The steel in her spine softened. “Thanks again, but what are you doing here?”
He tilted his chin to the right. Noelle followed the line until she spotted Shannon on the dance floor plastered to a stocky, good-looking guy she assumed was Mike.
“Mike wanted to prove he could be at the same club as Shannon and have fun without her.”
She turned back to her cohost, her eyebrows raised. “Looks like that’s working.”
Tate shrugged. “It’s early in the game. Still plenty of time for them to realize there’s a whole world to explore. I’m sure he’ll come around to my line of thinking sooner or later.”
“Don’t count on it. Look at them. They’re meant for each other. You might as well give in now and admit I was right.”
“Get real. This is as close as they’ve gotten to a real date in who knows how long, so they’re enjoying themselves. You look nice, by the way.”
Stunned by the abrupt change in topic, Noelle froze. Caitlin had expressly forbidden her to wear any of her work outfits. The red jersey dress was a little flashier than the clothes she normally wore and showed a lot more leg than she was used to, but it flattered her figure, molding to her breasts and nipping in at her waist. She hadn’t been able to resist it when she spotted it in a store window. It had hung at the back of her closet for the past year.
“Uhh…thanks.” Noelle clasped her hands together in her lap to stop herself from tugging the dress down, although she couldn’t resist a quick peek to make sure the dress hadn’t ridden up on her thighs. She looked up in time to catch him taking a measured tour of her body. He missed nothing. She quivered under the intensity of his gaze.
His eyes met hers. “Red suits you.”
Was he flirting with her? Yes, he was. His wicked grin confirmed it. Breathing became nearly impossible.
Get it together, Noelle. He wasn’t attracted to her. He was just being Tate, the eternal flirt.
“You do, too,” she said to break up the lingering silence. “Look nice, I mean.”
Black pants and a black button-down shirt were a major departure from his usual T-shirt-and-jeans combo, but no less flattering. The rolled-up sleeves and untucked hem screamed, “I’m relaxed and comfortable in my own skin.” Sexy, in other words.
“Thanks. Let’s dance.”
Every muscle in Noelle’s body drew up tight in rebellion. “Uhh…let’s not.”
“Why not?”
Because letting loose, especially in public, was anathema to her. “It’s not my thing. I prefer to observe.”
“It’s time you stopped observing. Come on.” He straightened from the table. “Don’t hold the wall.”
“I am not holding the wall,” she said through clenched teeth. Except she totally was, metaphorically speaking anyway. “Why do you care anyway?”
“Because it’s the only thanks I’m prepared to accept. Come on, Doctor. You’re supposed to be participating fully. That’s a stipulation of the bet. Don’t tell me you’re reneging already.”
She knew he was messing with her. Again, his wicked grin confirmed it. Her competitive side didn’t care. She stepped off the stool. “Fine.”
Noelle marched to the packed dance floor with Tate right behind her. She noticed the envious looks other women sent her way, but she couldn’t concentrate on that. Not when she was about to make a fool of herself.
But even that possible unpleasant outcome lost its importance at her first contact with Tate’s muscular body. An electric current zipped through her body. An unwelcome electric current. She took a hasty step back and closed her eyes to block out how close he was, how distracting his body was. She concentrated on the music, letting it flow through her and moving her hips to the drum-heavy beat.
“I thought you said you couldn’t dance.” Tate’s lips brushed her ear.
“I said I don’t like to dance. At least not in public.”
“In private?”
“I crank up the music and drop it like it’s hot.”
Noelle’s eyes flew open. Had she said that out loud?
Tate had stopped moving and was staring at her like he’d never seen her before. A peal of laughter bubbled up in her chest. She’d surprised him. Good.
The corners of his mouth tilted up. “I would pay good money to see that.”
“I bet you would, and it would be worth every penny.”
Tate’s eyes darkened with an emotion she didn’t want to put a name to. “Would it?”
“Without a doubt,” she murmured.
What was she doing? Why was she doing it? Instead of trying to find answers she was pretty sure she didn’t want, Noelle resumed dancing. Tate didn’t back away. No, he stood much too close for her sanity, his hot, inquisitive eyes focused squarely on her, his movements mirroring hers. Of course he could dance. Was there anything he couldn’t do? If he moved this well on the dance… Stop. No need to go down that road.
She backed up a few inches, but he followed her, bringing his heat so close. Making her think things. Long for things. What if she let go of some of the rigid control she kept over her life?
“Hey, everybody having a good time?” the DJ yelled into his microphone. The capacity crowd yelled out a collective “yes.”
“Good. It’s never a bad time for some MJ, right?” he called out as the opening bars of “Billie Jean” played.
A woman who’d obviously had too much to drink stumbled into Noelle, jolting her back to reality. What was she doing? It had been a long time since she’d acted without thinking and been selfish. Now wasn’t the time to alter her life path. Noelle made a move back to her table, but Tate’s hand landing on her arm stopped her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
She blinked up at him. “The song’s over.”
“Come on,” he said with a wry twist of his full lips. Lips she shouldn’t be noticing. “I don’t think that thirty seconds counted as a dance.”
“I should go check on Shannon.”
“She’s a big girl. She can survive without you for a few minutes. It’s okay if you relax for a while. Have some fun.” A raised eyebrow issued a challenge.
Which she couldn’t resist. “Fine.”
He grabbed her hand and
twirled her around. She laughed at the formal move. Laughed harder when she spotted his wide grin. He was having a good time. And why wouldn’t he be? He lived life on his own terms and, unlike her, wasn’t worried about whether or not he deserved to be happy. She could use some of his confidence and unrestrained joy in her life. She blinked at the realization that she was enjoying the moment. The music. Tate.
They danced until sweat pooled on her skin and her limbs were pleasantly heavy. He looked like he’d taken a leisurely stroll across the beach. Amazing how much nonstop energy he possessed. She stopped moving and pressed a hand against her heaving chest. “I need something to drink.”
“I could use something, too.” He held out his hand. “Ladies first.”
She nodded and headed off the dance floor. She tried not to concentrate on the fact that he’d placed a hand at her waist. For the second time that night. He’d only done it so they wouldn’t get separated in the crowded room. Knowing that didn’t prevent little tingles of pleasures from radiating from the spot he touched to every corner of her body. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when they reached the bar and he dropped his hand.
“I’ve got it,” he said. “What do you want, a vodka tonic?”
Her good mood evaporated in a flash, darkness settling over her soul. “I don’t drink.”
“You don’t?”
“I have my reasons.” Avoiding his gaze, she caught the bartender’s attention and ordered a ginger ale. She took a hasty swig of the drink and coughed as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. She held up a hand when Tate moved closer. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” His eyes searched hers.
His concern was almost too much for her to take. She pushed her lips upward. “Yeah.”
What else could she say? She certainly couldn’t say she didn’t drink because alcohol had cost her the two most important people in her life and it was all her fault. Talk about TMI. Instead, she looked around his right shoulder. “Do you see Mike and Shannon or Caitlin? Maybe we should call it a night. We have a long day tomorrow.”
She glanced up at him. He studied her for a few seconds, his eyebrows drawn into a deep vee. Don’t look away. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Let’s call it a night.”
“Great. I need to find Shannon and Caitlin.” She turned to scan the crowd, only to jump back in shock when Shannon suddenly appeared right in front of her face. The woman dodged around Noelle and shook her finger in Tate’s face. “This is all your fault. The bet is off!”
Not waiting for a response, she whirled and darted through the crowd. Tate shrugged at Noelle, his face stamped with confusion.
“What did you do?” Noelle didn’t wait for an answer. She went after her charge, who smoothly weaved through the masses of people. Noelle wasn’t quite so graceful, dodging flailing limbs left and right, barely keeping Shannon in her sights in the dim lighting.
Disappointment rained down on her. Frustration. Anger. She was going to kill Tate. Shannon disappeared behind a couple making out in the middle of the dance floor. Crap.
Oh, there she was.
Noelle quickened her pace as Shannon slipped through the front door. She wasn’t leaving, was she? Noelle had driven, but Shannon could grab a taxi. She strode out the door and scanned the parking lot, finally spotting her leaning against the brick wall about twenty feet away. Noelle’s shoulders collapsed in relief until a nearby streetlight threw Shannon’s features in sharp relief. Tears slipped down her round cheeks.
Noelle’s heart stuttered in sympathy.
God, Tate was impossible. Right when she’d started softening toward him, he had to ruin it. But she wasn’t going to let him sabotage Shannon’s relationship. Whatever he’d screwed up, she’d fix. And then she would set him so straight about his insensitivities he’d never think to interfere with Shannon and Mike again.
Noelle carefully approached the other woman. “Shannon, what happened? What did Tate do?”
Shannon wiped the tears away with both hands. “This is all his fault.”
“Yes, you said that, but why?” Noelle leaned against the brick wall.
Shannon sniffled. “Because…because he wants to keep Mike and me apart. He wants Mike to hate me.”
“What makes you think that?” Tate could be clueless, true. But heartless? She’d seen no signs of that.
“Mike got mad when he saw a guy trying to give me his number. He yelled at me and said that Tate was right, that he shouldn’t have come.” Shannon hitched a breath. “Tate said that if Mike really wanted to feel what it was like to be single, then he needed to stay away. He said seeing me talk to other guys would be too hard for him.”
Noelle waited for her body to fill with outrage. It didn’t. She gave it another second just in case. Still nothing. “Um, Shannon?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think Tate said that to get Mike to hate you. It sounds like he was trying to protect Mike’s feelings. After all, this night was supposed to be about each of you experiencing the single life. How would feel if you walked into a club and saw Mike dancing with another woman?”
Shannon’s reddened eyes widened. “I would hate it.”
“Exactly.”
She wiped her cheeks. “But I didn’t even like that guy who I was talking to.”
“You know that doesn’t matter. The fact that you looked like you were thinking about accepting that guy’s number hurt Mike.”
“Oh.” Shannon stared at her shoes. “That makes sense, I guess.”
Noelle laughed, recognizing a kindred soul. “Admitting you were wrong is hard for you, I take it.”
Shannon looked up. “Yeah, it is. I guess I won’t kill Tate.”
Maybe she wasn’t the only one. Crap. Noelle had welcomed the outrage. Because then she could deny that the absolute last man who should’ve gotten to her made her feel more alive than she had in a long time.
Noelle took a fortifying breath. It didn’t matter. She had a plan. She wanted a long-term relationship filled with love with the right man. Tate wanted twenty minutes with the nearest woman. She didn’t know if she’d ever find what she was looking for, but she knew she wouldn’t find it with Tate Grayson.
Which meant her unruly hormones and feelings could go back into hibernation.
Chapter Seven
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Noelle glared at the flat tire on her way-too-new-for-this car. “This is the last thing I need.”
She looked at her watch. Only thirty minutes till she was supposed to be at the bridal show. Probably enough time to change the tire and still make it on time. If she knew how to change a flat. Which she didn’t. And she didn’t have time to learn, even with the trusty internet on her side, or to call her roadside assistance service.
She dug her phone out of her purse. What were her options? Call Caitlin? A cab? Yeah, a cab would work. She didn’t want to bother Caitlin.
She heaved a sigh. But first she needed to call Tate.
She scrolled through her contacts until she reached his name. Her thumb hovered over the call icon. “Get a grip.” Calling him was not the end of the world. She pressed her thumb down on the screen.
“Hello,” he answered after two rings.
“Hi, it’s me. Noelle,” she added because why would she expect him to know who “me” was?
“I know. What’s up? Were you getting lonely not hearing my voice?”
She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”
He laughed softly. “What’s up?”
Just say it. She gripped the phone tighter. “I’m-I’m going to be late.”
“Late? You’re never late.” He sounded thoroughly confused.
“I know,” she muttered.
“You sound weird. What’s wrong?”
Say it. “I have a flat tire.”
He hooted. “Are you telling me the always prepared Dr. Noelle doesn’t know how to change a tire?”
This was why she hadn’t wanted to call him.
“You
are correct,” she said stiffly.
“Sooo…because you don’t know how to change a flat tire, you’re going to be late. Hey, didn’t you get on me about being late not too long ago?”
No, this was why she hadn’t wanted to call him.
“Dr. Noelle, I don’t hear anything,” he said in a singsong tone of voice.
She laughed at his teasing. Something she did a lot around him. “Okay. You’re right. I deserved that. I’m going to call a cab. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Where do you live?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Where do you live? It might be faster if I swing by and pick you up. I’m about fifteen minutes away from the show.”
“Oh. I live in Uptown off Central Expressway.”
“I’m driving south on Central as we speak. Text me your address. I’ll put it in my GPS.”
Did she have a better option? No, she didn’t. “Okay. Thanks. Bye.” Noelle ended the call, sent the text, and went back inside her house to wait. A few minutes later, when she heard a car pulling into her driveway, she jumped off her couch and hurried outside. “Hey,” she said, walking toward Tate, who was stepping out of his SUV. “Thanks again for picking me up.”
He continued around the car to the passenger side. “No problem. You’re in my debt now.”
“Yeah, right. In your dreams.”
“How did you guess?” He grinned and opened the door. She climbed inside, stopping midway to stare at the light blue piece of cardstock in the seat. Looked like a wedding invitation.
Tate reached around her and picked it up. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She settled against the plush leather seat and watched Tate walk around the car. He hopped inside, scowled at the invitation, and tossed it in the cup holder in between seats.
She stared at the seemingly inoffensive piece of paper. Should she ask him about it? No, it wasn’t any of her business. She turned to look out the passenger-side window as Tate backed the car out of the driveway and headed toward the freeway.
“How many of these bridal shows have you been to?” he asked, breaking the silence a few minutes later.
She shifted toward him. “A couple. How about you?”