Countdown to a Kiss

by Mara Jacobs

  She missed his mouth by two inches, yet as their faces collided in the midst of the revelry, Tess felt her body shut down ... then whoosh alive. He turned toward her and their lips clashed awkwardly ... and then suddenly Johnny Wilder was kissing her ... really kissing her.

  Chapter Five

  Present Day

  Every time Wilder walked into the Club, he couldn’t help but remember the first Devine-Kampmueller New Year’s Eve party he’d attended—ten years ago. That was the night Tess kissed him in order to win some sort of bet. Little did he know that was the beginning of The Curse of Tess Devine.

  All his plans for Jilly Henson in the rear seat of his roomy F-10 (or on the couch in her parents’ basement, or even in the hot tub room at the Club—he wasn’t particular) had gone to hell the minute Tess leaned into him. Not only had that kiss left him feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut, but despite his subsequent explanations, Jilly had eventually left the party with Vance Evans—and ended up showing him her parents’ couch in the basement.

  In reality, the kiss meant nothing to either Tess or Wilder—hell, he’d kissed a lot of girls; he wasn’t shy—but it changed things anyway.

  Until that night, he knew the upperclassman Tess only as David Grathwold’s co-star in the school play and the daughter of one of the most prominent families in town. Plus Grace was in his class. But since he and Grat (a junior) were tight, and Tess and Grat had become close doing the show, the three of them began to hang out together during the rest of her senior year. Sometimes Tess had a boyfriend with her, other times Wilder had a date, and usually Cara was there because everyone knew she and Grat were destined to get married as soon as they graduated. (They had.)

  Heck, he and Grat used to ask Tess for dating advice. He could remember sitting at a late-night coffee session at Denny’s, talking through his next move or how to ask out a girl he was hot for.

  In fact, Tess had bought him and Grat their first box of condoms. He and David had been arguing about who was going to walk into Clavell’s and buy them.

  Tess had rolled her eyes, held out her hand for their money, and walked bold as brass into Clavell’s. Moments later, she’d come waltzing out with a bag much too large for a single box of condoms. But it wasn’t until they’d returned to David’s house that she’d dumped the contents onto the table in front of them.

  She’d bought condoms all right ... ribbed ones and lambskin ones, gold coins, glow in the dark ones, lubricated with and without spermicide, and even a box of extra-large. “I wasn’t sure what size you guys wore,” she’d teased.

  And she’d purchased samples of other contraceptive methods—foams and inserts and a tube of K-Y Jelly.

  “I thought I was going to shit my pants when she said she told Mr. Clavell it was for us!” Grat told him after she left.

  Now, ten years later as he escorted Laney into the Club’s crowded ballroom, Wilder couldn’t help but glance over at the corner where he and Tess had kissed—that one and only time. What would’ve happened if he’d given up trying to explain his actions to Jilly and instead hung out with Tess the rest of the night?

  Maybe things would have been different. But probably not. It wasn’t as if he and Tess hadn’t had ample opportunity to hook up over the next few years.

  It was just that the circumstances had never been right.

  And now she was married. To a major ass.

  “What can I get you to drink?” he asked Laney, admiring the deep vee of her neckline instead of scanning the room for Tess. The dress wasn’t red, but he found he didn’t mind at all—black lace worked just as well when it was showcasing a generous rack like hers. Christina Hendricks didn’t have a thing on his date.

  “Chardonnay,” she told him, her fingers curled around his arm. “Oh, look. There’s Tess Devine! I haven’t seen her in ages. She looks amazing. And she’s famous.”

  Famous, talented, bossy—and surrounded by rich and powerful men. She could have her pick. And she’d picked Barry Markham.

  “I’ll go get our drinks,” he said as soon as he caught a glimpse of her heading their way. As he walked off, he heard Laney greeting Tess. Coward.

  I’m just getting us a drink, he argued with himself.

  Yeah, you beat it faster than a horny teen after his first make out session. Pussy.

  I’m not hiding from her.

  His inner self snickered and rolled its eyes.

  Thank God there were empty stools at the bar. Wilder took a seat with his back to the ballroom, which was just across the way. With luck, he could hang out here for a few minutes until the women were done talking.

  “Jameson, neat,” he said to the dark-haired bartender. Harry was on his name tag, and although it took him a surprisingly long time to find the bottle of whiskey, he finally pushed a short glass over to him. Filled to the brim.

  “Nice pour,” Wilder said. Jesus. Do I look like I need it that bad? “A chardonnay, too.”

  “Right,” said Harry, who turned to stare at the array of wine bottles behind him. He didn’t seem to know what to do next.

  “No hurry. Seriously.”

  “So who’s the hot blonde?” Harry asked, pulling a glass down and setting it on the bar.

  “Tess Devine,” Wilder replied into his glass. Then he looked up, realizing he’d answered wayyy too quickly. “I mean, which one? There’s a lot of hot blondes here tonight.”

  “Right. But only one as far as you’re concerned.”

  Wilder frowned and looked around. What the hell? How did this guy know anything? And weren’t there any other customers the guy could be serving? This side of the bar was tucked away and empty. Great. He took another sip, deciding he was in a hurry for the chardonnay after all.

  But then he glanced around and saw Laney and Tess deep in conversation. They seemed to be comparing shoes. Maybe not so much in a hurry then.

  “So what’s the deal? You’re here with the stacked brunette, but you wish you were with the blonde. Story of my life,” Harry sighed. He’d poured a glass of wine all right, but it was red. Wilder was about to correct him when the bartender lifted the glass and drank from it. “Mm. Very nice.” He held onto it as he leaned forward companionably. “So…old flame, ex-girlfriend, or what?”

  Wilder shot him an irritated look. “Isn’t that the same thing?” When Harry just raised his brows, he capitulated. “None of the above. So what’s the weather saying?” He gestured to the screen above the bartender’s head.

  “They’re calling for ice and snow later tonight. Around midnight.”

  “In Henderson? Are they on crack?” But when he looked at the screen, he saw the weather advisories running along the bottom of the monitor.

  Harry shrugged. “I’ve been watching the radar. It doesn’t look like they’re on crack. Looks like we’re going to have a white New Year’s Eve.”

  Great. Suddenly, Johnny felt more optimistic. Excellent excuse for leaving early. Like, asap. “How about that chardonnay?”

  “Right. They’re still talking you know. And another lady joined them. You probably want to sit here a little longer.” Harry grinned, then, mercifully, went to serve another customer who’d slid onto a stool nearby.

  Wilder swirled the whiskey around in his glass and watched it funnel down. Ten years of Tess Devine. The first year—that hot kiss—had surprised him. The second year, he’d simply hung out with her and a group of friends, and admired from afar. But it was the next year that changed everything.

  Chapter Six

  New Year’s Eve

  Eight Years Ago

  Wilder had his hand down Kaylie Schwartz’s dress and his mouth on her neck when a bright light broke into the darkness.

  “Shit,” he muttered, disengaging from her hot, sweaty skin to look up from the depths of the backseat of her car. Kaylie was beneath him, still fully clothed (but he was working on changing that), and she had her hand on his ass. He was hoping she’d move it elsewhere—like, front and center—but who the
hell was out there, poking around with a light? He sure hoped it wasn’t a cop. Or Mr. Devine.

  He and Kaylie had been parked in the Club parking lot since one-thirty. Hadn’t everyone left the party by now? He hadn’t really been noticing all the cars leaving, but he’d heard the voices. And it had been quiet for a long time. Of course, he’d been a little distracted….

  “Hold on,” he said, aware that his voice was tight and gritty. Well, what did you expect? He’d been looking forward to getting Kaylie into the backseat for hours.

  The light was coming from a car near theirs—the only other one left in the parking lot, he realized with a shock. And it was still shining because whoever it was was digging around in the trunk—whose lights were facing the car Wilder was in.

  “Johnny,” Kaylie said, shifting her hips suggestively against his. “I have to get home soon.”

  “Right,” he said, and was just about to dive back in when he saw a flash of the newcomer’s face. What the hell was Tess doing out here…by herself? “Uh, hold on,” he said again, and eased away. “That’s Tess Devine. I’d better see what’s going on.”

  “Tess?” Kaylie whined. “Who cares?” She moved her hand around and grabbed the front of his belt, yanking him closer. “Come on, Johnny….”

  But Wilder’s mom had raised his ass to be a gentleman, and a gentleman—while he might try and get lucky in the back of a girl’s car whenever possible—wouldn’t leave a stranded woman alone in the dark.

  “I’m sorry. I better check and see what’s going on. She looks like she might be in trouble.” Knowing he was going to regret this, he eased away from Kaylie and slipped out of the car.

  Tess turned from burrowing in her trunk (it was definitely her car because of the NYU sticker) when she heard the sound of the car door slam. “Oh crap, you scared me,” she said. Then frowned. “What are you still doing here? I thought you left hours ago.”

  Well, she didn’t seem distressed. But what the hell was she doing out here, wearing a dark suit coat over her evening gown?

  “I’m er—” He shrugged and gave her a cheesy grin. “Kaylie and I were just talking.”

  She glanced at the Accord with its steamed-up windows and laughed. “Talking. Right. Just make sure you’re not going bareback, cowboy.” She turned back to her trunk, where she seemed to be replacing a variety of things she’d taken out.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, walking closer.

  “I was getting my boots—my snow boots because we actually get snow up in New York in December.”

  “But we don’t have it here….” He looked around, spreading his hands in question. He was still wincing over the bareback comment. Damn.

  She laughed again and closed the trunk. She had a pair of snow boots in her hand. “I know. There’s a problem inside and I was going to see if I could help.”

  “What sort of problem? And why are you still here? Didn’t everyone leave, like, hours ago?”

  “I was helping the band break down. They’re friends of mine, you know, and I got them the gig. And I…well, they let me sing a few songs so I thought I’d help them pack up.”

  He remembered that. She’d gone up there and belted out “Don’t Know Why” almost as well as Norah Jones herself. And then she made the keyboard player accompany her on “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve” just before midnight. And then she’d kissed a preppy-looking guy who was her date for the evening. Come to think of it, where was he?

  “And where are they now?” He gestured to the empty parking lot. “And what about the guy you were with?”

  “Aaron? Oh, he has an early flight tomorrow so he left already. The band’s gone, but a couple of the catering staff and the club supervisor are still here—they’re parked in the back. I was just getting ready to head home when I heard them shouting. Something happened in the spa with the hot tub and now there’s a huge flood in the locker rooms, and it’s going into the lounges.” She shrugged. “They’re trying to clean it up—there’s no one to call at this time of night on a holiday—and the manager left early. I figured I’d give them a hand.” She rolled her eyes. “They were totally clueless until I got them organized. But I didn’t want to ruin my shoes any more than they already were, hence the boots. There’s about three inches of water in there and we can’t just leave it.”

  “Right.”

  As he watched, she slipped out of two flimsy looking silver shoes and shoved her feet into the boots. “So, off I go,” she said, starting back toward the Club. “Remember what I said—suit up, space boy.”

  Wilder watched her tromp across the parking lot. She looked like a vagabond with her big clunky boots, sparkling evening gown, and black suit coat. An aggravated toot-toot of the car horn snagged his attention and he turned back to see Kaylie gesturing from the window. She didn’t look happy.

  He never understood what propelled him to walk over to the driver’s side door and wait for Kaylie to roll down the window. If he’d just climbed in the damn car, he’d have broken the Tess Devine Curse just like that.

  But, no. Thanks to his mom, he wasn’t the kind of guy who could just leave. Especially since…well, Tess was here. Alone. With a bunch of people she didn’t know…who knew who they were? What if they were a bunch of guys who’d been drinking while they cleaned up? Not a good idea.

  “Hey, Kaylie, I’m sorry…I’m really sorry…but I think I better stay. There’s a problem inside and Tess is helping them, and I think they could use a hand.”

  “Seriously?” she demanded, looking up at him with big pouty lips. One of her tits was nearly hanging out of her loosened dress.

  His resolve wavered, but he held firm. “And I…uh…well, I don’t have any protection with me. It’s probably a good thing we were interrupted, because you were getting me pretty worked up.”

  Lie, lie, lie. He could practically feel the condom burning through the leather of his wallet into his ass. As if he’d come to the biggest party night of the year without a plan. To cover up the falsehood, he leaned in and gave Kaylie a kiss that nearly had him climbing back in through the window…flood or no flood.

  “All right. Call me tomorrow?” she said, gunning the engine.

  “For sure.”

  When Wilder walked back into the Club, he didn’t have to search for the activity. There was a splashing, wave-like sound coming from the back of the place, and he could hear Tess barking out orders.

  “No, no, we have to push the water this way, toward the lower part of the floor where it can collect. Then we can suck it up with the wet-vac—did you find it, Pete? Here, use a push-broom like I told you, Suzy. Those mops don’t do a damn thing. Now you all push it this way, and I’ll—Wilder? What are you doing here?”

  “Another set of hands,” he said, looking around. It was a disaster. She was a disaster too, with her hair in a loose ponytail and the edge of her expensive gown dragging in the water even though she’d put some sort of belt on to hold it up. She’d tossed the suit coat somewhere and her shoulders and cleavage were a very pretty thing to look at. “What can I do?”

  She didn’t blink, but launched into another round of orders. Find some fans, get the air conditioning turned on, empty the heavy wet-vac tank….Apparently she’d been through this before, either from a hurricane or some other flooding experience.

  They all worked side by side—Wilder, Tess, two college girls from the catering staff, and Pete, the Club supervisor—for hours, trying to funnel the water out.

  It was Tess who suggested they open one of the bottles of leftover champagne—“After all, Daddy and Mr. K. paid for it!”—and they all had a toast. Or two. In fact, they ended up drinking three bottles of leftover champagne, which was just enough to give everyone a nice, healthy buzz. They also raided the leftover food, which had been packed up but now became fair game as they worked.

  At one point, Tess started singing “Jingle Bell Rock” as she slung her push-broom, swishing water energetically across the floor in her bri
ght red strapless gown…and the next thing he knew, everyone joined in. They went through a slew of songs, most of which he only knew because his mom played Harry Connick, Jr. and Frank Sinatra’s Christmas albums every day from December 15 through January 1.

  It was the most surreal New Year’s Eve he’d ever experienced in his almost-eighteen years, and weirdly enough, despite the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid after all, he was having a blast. Aside from that, he couldn’t believe Tess was still going. It was nearly four o’clock in the morning. After burning up the dance floor with her sisters and visiting with everyone in town all night, trying to catch up on things since she’d left for college, she should be exhausted. Even the catering staff hadn’t worked as hard as she did, because he knew she’d been here with her sisters doing the decorating early in the day.

  “I think we can call it a night,” she finally said, surveying the area. Pretty much every drop of water had been sucked up. The two catering staff were collapsed on a sofa in the lounge, having clearly been ready to quit long ago, and Pete went to put away the wet-vac. “Or day. Or year,” she added, giggling a little. “After all, it’s next year now, isn’t it?”

  Someone was punchy. Wilder grinned. She might be bossy but she was totally hot, and really cute when she was overtired. He could see exhaustion around the edges of her eyes.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Mind giving me a ride home? Kaylie drove, and I don’t have a car.” For some reason, the thought of riding home with Tess Devine made his insides flip.

  “Aww, I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you tonight, Wilder,” she said, slipping her arm around his shoulders in a companionable hug. She was warm and soft. Her skin glowed from the hard work, and parts of her hair fell in her face and brushed against his chin. Made it look like she’d just woken up. “Maybe next time.”

  “Let’s go,” he said, suddenly very aware of her hip bumping against him and the tantalizing view down her strapless gown…and the way she smelled. Which was amazing. His mouth dried up and as he edged slightly away, he looked up. Pete, a thirty-ish guy with a neat goatee, was looking at him with a knowing expression.