Born to Be Wilde

by Janelle Denison

  She was jostled from person to person, and each masked costume seemed to mock her. Too many people were touching her-a hand grazed her bare back, then another slid down her arm, and she shuddered, trying desperately to keep her growing anxiety at bay. Someone pulled on one of the veils attached to her costume and the opening of her genie pants caught on something, nearly yanking her off her feet. Her tray slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor, but she couldn't bend down to pick it up since she'd been pushed out to the middle of the dance floor, with an evil clown bumping and grinding against her, his depraved, leering grin sending chills down her spine.

  Everything closed in on her and she suddenly couldn't breathe. With the thick fog curling around her and the strobe lights flashing, she felt as though the room was shrinking in size, and she had no way to escape. As she was shoved against a man wearing a Bart Simpson mask, and he caught her by the arms in a firm grip, adrenaline and terror spiraled through her.

  It was all too much, and more than she could handle mentally. She'd been so strong since her attack, so determined to live her life as normally as possible and not let trepidation and fear rule her every thought or every move she made. But now, tonight, it all came to a head and she could no longer hold back all those emotions and feelings she'd bottled up tight inside of her.

  Her heart pounded hard and fast in her chest, and she struggled out of Bart Simpson's grasp. Struggled to find a way out of the crush of people pushing and shoving and suffocating her with their bodies and masked faces. She started to sweat and gulped for air, but oxygen seemed in short supply, and she couldn't seem to inhale a sufficient amount into her lungs. Her head spun, her vision blurred, and a dry, frightened sob nearly strangled her.

  As she was frantically pushing her way toward the bar, and Joel, she felt an arm snake around her waist and haul her against a hard, solid chest. Then she was being dragged away. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but no sound emerged.

  Oh, God, she thought. Not again. Please, not again.

  She grew lightheaded and dizzy, her entire body tingling in cold, stark terror as she kicked and clawed and did everything she could to escape this man's steel embrace. It was no use. The more she fought, the more the person behind her tried to subdue her efforts-and he was much bigger, and more powerful, than she was.

  "Goddammit, Lora," a familiar male voice growled into her ear. "It's Joel. Stop fighting me so I can get you out of here!"

  Her relief was so profound that her entire body went weak, and she let Joel pull her out of the thick mass of party revelers and into Sydney's office, where her best friend was waiting for the two of them to arrive. The whole scene had an odd sense of déjà vu to Lora, reminding her too much of the night she'd gotten attacked, and how Joel had come to her rescue then, as well.

  Once they were safely inside the room, Sydney let her worry spill forth. "Jesus, Lora!" she said, her own voice shaking. "Are you okay?"

  Lora couldn't answer. Couldn't talk. The pressure in her chest was still so painful, her throat raw and just as tight as she struggled to take big gulps of air and breathe normally.

  "She'll be fine," Joel finally answered calmly, though Lora heard the concern in his voice, too.

  The next thing Lora knew, Joel was pushing her onto a chair. Once she was seated, he cupped the back of her neck in his large hand and guided her head down between her legs. Then he crouched in front of her so he remained close by.

  "Breathe slow and easy through your nose, sweetheart," he instructed in a low and gentle tone of voice. "Close your eyes, try to relax, and concentrate on taking deep, even breaths."

  His voice was so soothing in the midst of her scare. Knowing she was well and truly safe, Lora did as he ordered, inhaling slowly, despite the rapid beating of her heart.

  "What's wrong with her?" Sydney asked, pacing beside Lora's chair.

  "She's hyperventilating." Joel's fingers stroked the back of Lora's neck, comforting her with his warm touch, his presence. "She'll be okay in a few minutes."

  True to Joel's word, Lora's pulse gradually returned to a normal pace. When she finally felt as though her anxiety had subsided and she could breathe without feeling as though she was going to pass out, she lifted her head and stared into Joel's dark blue eyes. His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze narrowed as he searched her face for any other signs of trauma.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, tipping her chin up with his fingers to get a better look at her.

  Still unable to speak, she moistened her dry lips with her tongue and nodded. Minutes ago she'd been sweating and hot. Now, her skin felt cool. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her bare stomach, suddenly wishing her costume was more substantial than the bra top and sheer material it was made out of.

  Joel straightened back to his full height, shrugged out of his leather jacket, and draped it over her shoulders, instantly enveloping her in his warmth and male scent. "Did anything happen out there?" he asked her. "Did anyone try and hurt you?"

  His voice was neutral in tone, but the tension radiating from his body and the steel glint in his eyes told her that he'd charge right back into the bar in search of anyone who'd dared to harm her.

  She shook her head. "No…" Her voice cracked and she swallowed to ease her parched throat so she could explain. "It was just me. I felt suffocated and closed in with all those masked people crowding around me. I kept thinking that any one of them could be those guys who attacked me, and I completely freaked out." Even now, the thought of going back out into the bar, and being surrounded by so many people, made her stomach twist into knots all over again.

  "Well, you certainly scared the crap out of me," Sydney cut in, and fisted her hands on her hips, swathed in a striped pirate sash. Then she pointed a finger at Lora. "You are so done here at the bar. You're not working here until this thing with your brother is over, do you hear me? Because if something happened to you again while you were here working, I'd never forgive myself." Her stern voice softened toward the end, her caring and concern tangible.

  Lora didn't have the energy to argue, so she managed a half smile and attempted to lighten the moment. "Are you firing me?"

  "I will if I have to." Sydney was completely serious, and Lora knew her friend would have no qualms about following through on the threat. "Whatever it takes to make you start thinking about yourself, and your safety, for a change. I have to get back to tending the bar before things get totally out of control, but as of right now, you're on a forced vacation, which has been long overdue, anyway. This place is off-limits for you. Got it?"

  Sydney's curt attitude left no room for negotiation over the issue, which was what made her such a good boss and businesswoman, Lora knew. "Yes, ma'am," she murmured.

  Clearly surprised by Lora's too-easy assent, Sydney stared at her for a long moment. When Lora said nothing more, her friend spun around and left the office, closing the door behind her.

  "She's right, Lora," Joel said once Sydney was gone and they were alone, backing her friend's decision one hundred percent. "I don't like you working here at the bar, either. Now you know why. It makes you too much of a target, whether you like it or not. And it makes my job of protecting you difficult as hell."

  She burrowed deeper into the warmth of his jacket. "You did just fine tonight," she said gratefully.

  His lips flattened into a grim line. "Yeah, well, getting to you through that thick mob of people wasn't an easy task."

  At the time, Lora had felt as though she'd been trying to wade her way through quicksand, so she could only imagine how hard it had been for Joel to reach her so quickly. Which brought up a curious question. "How did you know that I wasn't okay?"

  "Because it's my job to know." It was that simple and straightforward for him. "I've done nothing but watch you the past few weeks, and I've pretty much learned and memorized every one of your facial expressions and what they mean. Trust me, it was easy to recognize the fear in your eyes, and when I realized that something was
wrong, I couldn't get to you fast enough."

  Suddenly, she saw the entire situation from Joel's perspective, and just how difficult she'd made things for him by insisting she keep working at the bar. Was it really fair to put him through that tension, and to expect him to be responsible for her safety when she was the one putting herself in the direct line of danger?

  The answer came easily. No. She'd been so stubborn and adamant about not letting Zach's predicament affect her life, but the truth was, it did affect her life, on many levels. And until Zach was out of trouble, she needed to be careful, and far more cautious.

  But how long would it take for this nightmare to end? Another week? Another month? Longer? The thought made her stomach roil, and brought on a healthy dose of resentment and anger.

  She was so tired of constantly looking over her shoulder, waiting and wondering when the next attack would happen. That slight bit of fear was always in the back of her mind, and she hated when it played tricks on her psyche, as it had tonight.

  "I want this to be done and over with," she said, frustration getting the best of her. "The more time that passes without knowing where Zach is or what's going on, the more anxious I'm getting." Tonight proved it.

  "You and me both." Joel leaned against the office desk behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "But until we know something, or we hear from Zach, laying low until this is over is the best thing to do."

  And Lora knew that the waiting, and the not knowing, was going to be the hardest part of all.

  LATER that same night, Joel waited until Lora was asleep to make some phone calls and put an idea into action. After tonight's incident at the bar, and witnessing Lora's distress over Zach, he'd decided that something had to give.

  And that something was Zach.

  It was time for him to stop being so self-centered and be the kind of man the Marine Corps had trained him to be. A man who was honest and loyal and unafraid to face the consequences of his actions. A man willing to step forward, admit mistakes, and make amends. Considering what Zach had put Lora through, he owed it to his sister to make that attempt.

  But even as Joel set up the clandestine meeting and contacted his partners at ESS for a conference call to line up a way out for Zach if he had the guts to take it, he wondered if Zach was capable of that kind of redemption. Or was Zach so far gone that he'd completely and irrevocably turn his back on the one person who loved him unconditionally, despite the fact that he'd sold her soul to a loan shark?

  In a few days, Joel would find out exactly what kind of man Zach was. And so would Lora.

  Once he'd finalized his plans and secured his partners' approval, Joel called Zach's cell phone, which went straight to voice mail. No big surprise there. Joel left him a detailed message, and had no problem playing on the other man's conscience, or using guilt to get the results he wanted. At this point, Joel was willing to do whatever it took to make this reunion happen and offer Zach the chance to get the help he needed for his addictions.

  The big question was, would Zach show up? Or would he take the coward's way out?

  Only time would tell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE man could cook, and that was a huge point in Daniel Barnett's favor.

  Meeting his gaze from across the dining room table at his house, Sydney leaned back in her chair and placed a hand over her full stomach. She couldn't believe how much she'd eaten, but the pecan-crusted chicken he'd made, along with buttered green beans and roasted herb potatoes, had tasted so good she hadn't be able to resist a second helping. The man kept impressing her at every turn, with his culinary talents, his dedication to his job as a math teacher, and the seemingly effortless way he resisted her sexual advances.

  Yeah, especially that, damn him.

  Even last night, after she'd closed down the bar following the Halloween bash and the rest of her employees had gone home the place had been cleaned up, she'd hoped to have a little fun with Daniel and their pirate costumes.

  Except he hadn't cooperated. Oh, she'd managed to get some hot and heavy kissing out of him, more than enough to get her juices flowing, but that had been it, despite her protests for more.

  So when he'd invited her over to his place for dinner the next night, she saw it as the perfect opportunity to fire things up between them, in a way he wouldn't be able to refuse.

  Seduction and satisfaction were the goals for the evening.

  "I take it you liked dinner," Daniel said, his tone pleased. "Either that, or you were being very polite with that second helping."

  She laughed, enjoying his humor. Heck, she enjoyed most everything about this man. More than she ever would have anticipated. "Trust me, I don't waste good calories on second helpings unless it's truly worth it. Dinner was delicious. In fact, if I didn't see you prepare and cook the meal yourself, I would have thought you had it catered in," she teased.

  "Not a chance." His caramel-hued eyes were warm and mellow with his own brand of playful flirtation. "I told you I love to cook."

  She reached out and strummed her fingers along the stem of her wineglass. "Yeah, well, when a guy says that, it usually means boxed potatoes, canned green beans, and chicken on the barbeque, not this gourmet meal you put together."

  He winked at her. "Stick with me, sweetheart. I have all kinds of tricks and talents up my sleeve."

  Oh, she was hoping so.

  The term of endearment he'd used, along with the husky tone of his voice, sent a pleasant warmth seeping through her that had nothing to do with the expensive wine he'd served with dinner, and everything to do with him. "So, what's for dessert?"

  "Something chocolate and absolutely decadent."

  "Mmmm." She let the sexy sound roll up from her throat in a tantalizing purr. "I like the sound of that."

  He laughed deeply. "Does everything have a sexual connotation to you?"

  "Only when I'm being sexually deprived," she retorted sassily.

  "Awww, poor baby," he crooned, though his eyes held a devilish glint that told her he wasn't at all sorry for his part in her sexual frustration.

  Releasing a breathy sigh that snagged his attention from across the table, she lifted her hand to her throat, then slowly skimmed her fingers along the opening of her blouse, and was immensely gratified when his gaze followed the trail. Her nipples puckered from her own caress, and he noticed that, too.

  She wet her bottom lip with her tongue, a long, slow swipe that would hopefully add to his own arousal and discomfort. Or, at the very least, make him think of all the wicked ways she could use her mouth and tongue on him. She was more than willing, given the chance.

  His eyes grew dark with desire, and she smiled. "You know, there is more than one way to put me out of my misery." Hot, hard sex was her preference, but hell, at this point she was willing to settle for some heavy petting and a few orgasms.

  "What, and spoil all this fun between us?" he drawled. He thought for a moment, then shook his dark blond head. "Nahhh. I'm having way too good a time just the way things are."

  He stood to clear the dining table, and she joined him, deciding that the man was the female equivalent of a cock-tease. Amazing. She was used to dealing with aggressive men who couldn't keep their hands off her-until they got what they wanted. And here she was offering it up to Daniel, and he'd just politely turned her down. Again.

  She placed her utensils on her plate, and when she reached for his dishes across the table, he stopped her.

  "I'll do this," he insisted, taking the plate from her grasp. "Why don't you go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the living room while I clean up the kitchen real quick. I'll be there in five minutes, max."

  "Okay."

  She headed into the adjoining room, and instead of sitting down on one of the brown suede couches to wait for Daniel, she strolled over to the wall unit and casually scanned the items on the shelves. There were hardbound books, most of which were spy novels, along with the James Bond novels he'd told her he collected.
There was a nice stereo unit and a stack of CDs ranging from jazz and country to rock, but what drew her attention the most was the array of framed photographs he had on display.

  She smiled at the picture of Daniel with two little boys dressed in baseball uniforms-his nephews, she guessed. And it was obvious by Daniel's affectionate grin and the way he was ruffling one of the boys' hair just how much he adored them. Another photograph showed him with another man his age, who possessed similar looks but appeared very serious in nature, and a beautiful woman caught laughing at something just as the snapshot had been taken. Siblings, she assumed, and moved on to another picture of an older couple who were clearly his parents.

  His father was handsome, with distinguished features and the appearance of a well-established doctor. In the photo, his mother was wearing a designer summer outfit, and the left hand resting on her husband's chest sported a huge rock of a diamond and an equally impressive diamond tennis bracelet. They were standing next to a new Jaguar, with a two-story estate home in the background, confirming what she'd known all along-that despite the modest salary he no doubt made as a high school math teacher, Daniel Barnett came from a wealthy, upscale, and classy family.

  And Sydney was as far from classy as a woman could get. Considering her checkered past and the things she'd done to get to where she was today, there was no way that she'd ever fit in Daniel's world beyond a brief fling. And he had to know that, too.

  It was time to be assertive, to heat things up, get the deed done, and move on before she got any more involved with Daniel than she already was.

  With that plan in mind, she scanned the stack of CDs and chose The Fray and slipped it into the disc player. Seconds later a rhythmic beat filled the room, along with the lead singer's smooth, rich vocals. Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep, relaxing breath and let the seductive cadence invade her mind, her body, and her senses.