Countdown to a Kiss

by Mara Jacobs

  Just think of what we could do with ur body. And my tongue.

  Even now, Tess remembered the shock of heat and vivid imagery that rushed through her when she saw that response. Whoa. How much had he had to drink? She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she sent back a quick LOL after a few minutes. She didn’t see Wilder after that—come to think of it, she wasn’t even sure he was still at the party when he sent that last message.

  But the following year—which was last year—she remembered that provocative message. Well, to be honest, she’d thought about it many times over the year. Maybe she should pursue it. She’d always found him sexy as hell. So she texted him the day after Christmas and said, What’re u doing New Year’s Eve? ;-) Want to go to party w me?

  His response…the next day…was: Sorry. Got plans.

  So that was that. A whole year of wondering, hoping, waiting…fantasizing. And he didn’t come to the big party that night either. So apparently, it really had just been talk.

  Now, sitting in her parents’ basement in front of the fire, Tess knew any chance she might have had to test out her attraction to Johnny Wilder was gone. She was engaged to be married, and his flirtations had always been just that: spur of the moment titillation. Beer (or wine) goggles.

  Which was why when he turned off the lights, her pulse didn’t even spike. She agreed with his implicit opinion: it was too late for bright lights, and the fire was beautiful.

  Wilder settled back on the floor next to her. “Much better,” he murmured. The firelight played over his face and warmed her toes and Tess felt soft and mellow.

  “So you’re doing really well on Broadway,” he said, glancing at her. “That’s amazing, Tess. But not really. You’ve always had it all: looks, talent, drive. I admire that—that you went after what you wanted.”

  “Thanks,” she said, staring into her glass. “It’s pretty wonderful. I get to do something I love to do for a living. There aren’t many people who do.”

  “No.”

  “But there are times when…well, it feels…oh, I don’t know….” Tess sipped, tasting the full-bodied wine thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” She glanced at him and saw his profile, for he stared straight into the dancing flames. A strong nose and square jaw and full, sensual lips. A small wave of regret washed over her. I’ll never kiss him again. I’ll never find out…what if? Her heart was racing.

  “It feels…what?” he asked, low and gritty, still staring at the fire.

  “It’s going to sound silly. Or…too esoteric or pompous or something.” She gave a little chuckle and bumped his foot with hers. “I’ve had too much wine and I’m not making any sense.” She slumped down lower against the coffee table. Maybe she’d just go to sleep right here.

  “You can tell me. I’d like to know what’s going on in your mind, Tess Devine.”

  She laughed again and elbowed him this time. “Don’t tease me. But, fine. Since you insist. I haven’t told anyone else this because…it’ll sound—oh, I don’t know—ungrateful is the word.”

  “Can you get to the point?” Gentle exasperation filled his voice. “Just say it.”

  “Well, being onstage is wonderful. A dream come true. But theater is so…superficial. And fake. Everyone’s always playacting—onstage and elsewhere. And it’s…cutthroat. Sometimes. At least, it feels to me. Like there’s no real purpose for it. No benefit to mankind, no altruistic aspect. Not like—you know—joining the service. Serving your country. All I do is stand up there and help people waste a couple hours of their time.”

  Tess looked at him, realizing sharply that he could leave…be shipped out…and she might never see him again. He could be sent off to the Middle East, and the worst could happen.

  “Nothing wrong with a little entertainment,” he murmured. “Everyone needs a laugh, or a way to get their mind off maybe something bad happening in their lives. You give people an escape. That’s important too.”

  “I told you it would sound stupid,” she sighed. “And ungrateful.”

  “So you’re getting married,” he said after a short silence. His voice was so low she could hardly hear it over the snapping of the fire.

  “Yes. A year from now. Maybe two, depending how quickly we can get things together. We thought it would be neat to get married on New Year’s Eve. Oh, but you’ve met him. I forgot. At your sister’s wedding last summer.”

  “Yep. I met him. Barry.” There was a tone to his voice. “I don’t think you should marry him, Tess.”

  “Why not? You think I’m too young?” Her short chuckle was sort of choked off because of the way she was slumped down. “I’m twenty-six. Great age to get married.”

  “Yeah. That’s it. You’re too young.” He gave a short, gritty laugh and drank from his beer.

  “I’m in love with you.”

  Tess blinked. Her whole body went still…inside and out. She dared not breathe. Had she just heard what she thought she heard? Or was it the wine and the lateness of the night and the fact that his voice was so low she could hardly discern what he was saying? She really didn’t know. Her mind was swimming, her body was alive and filled with odd, rocketing sensations and she tried, tried, to re-imagine the moment…the words he’d muttered.

  “What did you say?” she breathed after a moment.

  “Hm?” He was staring into the fire.

  Her heart was pounding. Stop it. You didn’t hear him right. Wishful thinking, maybe? No, Tess, every man doesn’t have to fall for you. Even one you’ve wanted for a long time.

  And you’re engaged to Barry, whom you love. Don’t be stupid.

  “I…nothing.” She finished the last of her wine. It was time for bed. She was hearing things—things she didn’t want to hear.

  “Do you have any idea how intimidating you are?”

  “Wh-what?” Again she rolled her head along the edge of the coffee table to look at him. She was so confused.

  “Makes it hard for a guy to….” His laugh was short and self-deprecating. “I’ve been trying to catch you between boyfriends for years. Every single New Year’s Eve. And now you’re getting married. We could have had a really good time, Tess. You and me. It would have been…amazing.”

  Suddenly she was rigid all over. Very nearly holding her breath. Because she knew if he touched her…reached for her—maybe even looked at her—she’d be done. That’d be it. She’d be breaking her vows before she even took them. Yet she fairly quivered with anticipation and attraction.

  Johnny, why didn’t you tell me this before? she wanted to say. Why did you wait till I found someone? It’s too late.

  She couldn’t think of any response that wouldn’t sound desperate or suggestive or sharp. He was drunk. She was well past tipsy. The chemistry between them blazed.

  Anything she said could lead to something she’d regret in the morning.

  They sat in silence for a long time, staring at the fire. And sometime later, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Present Day

  Well, that went well. Better than he’d expected.

  Wilder walked away from Tess with easy strides, feeling, for the first time fully confident of himself around her. He was no longer the fumbling, intimidated young man who adored the bright and shining, unattainable star.

  Christ—he snorted at himself—did I actually think those words? Bright and shining star? Unattainable?

  “Oh there you are, John. I’ve been looking all over for you.” His mother’s voice penetrated his thoughts and pulled him right out of the depths.

  “Hi Mom. Hey Rick,” he added, glancing at his mother’s date, then back at her. “You look great,” he remembered to say, then realized it was true. His mom looked hot. Really hot. He caught Rick’s eye and gave him a cool warning look. Spanks. Christ. Now he felt vaguely ill.

  Rick grinned and affectionately jostled his date. “Your son’s giving me the hairy eyeball.”

  “He does that sometimes,” she replied, looking totally pleased wi
th herself. “But now he’s going to dance with his mother, because it’s after ten already.”

  Wilder didn’t see how he had any choice, so he handed Laney’s chardonnay to Rick and asked him to deliver it to her. Then he set his own drink down and led his mother out to the dance floor. Thank God it wasn’t a fast dance; he just couldn’t imagine swiveling hips in front of his mom, or, worse, watching her swivel hips in front of him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as they embraced then moved into an easy swaying motion, his hand on her waist, hers on his shoulder.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said. Then he realized that only three couples away, Tess was dancing with Brooks Bennett. Which put her directly in his line of sight. She was facing toward him at the moment, giving him an unwanted view of herself.

  Usually she wore her hair down, long and full and morning-after sexy. But tonight, someone had spent a lot of time doing it up in a loose, messy style. He’d been close enough to see a myriad of tiny braids and curls and sparkling clips, all pulled together in a disordered mess of honey-bronze-platinum. Her dress tonight was the color of a rich, full-bodied red wine with a high, modest neckline that cut away to bare her shoulders like an athletic swimsuit—and, thank God, hid that sexy freckle by her throat. Her only jewelry was a wide glittering bracelet. Probably real diamonds from her dickwad husband.

  “Don’t lie to your mother,” said his mother. “I can tell when something’s wrong. You were talking to Tess Devine….” Her voice trailed off knowingly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Mom, there’s nothing to tell.” He’d shifted them around so he didn’t have to look at Tess, and he actually believed those words. Over and done with. Time to move on from the Curse of Tess Devine.

  “She’s getting divorced, you know,” his mother announced. “I just heard.”

  He very nearly stopped in his tracks, but suddenly aware of how closely she was scrutinizing him, he managed to hide his shock. “Oh?” Oh shit. Wilder suddenly felt as if the floor was falling away beneath his feet. What had he said…something about her asshat husband? Who was an asshat, no doubt, but still….

  Maybe he wasn’t as good at hiding his reaction as he thought—or maybe it was just because it was his mother, but she squeezed his shoulder. “You’ve had a thing for her for a long time, haven’t you?”

  No. Yes. How the hell did you know? “What?” seemed like the safest response.

  “Well, at least you aren’t denying it,” she said, looking up at him shrewdly. “Maybe we’re making progress.”

  “What are you talking about?” They’d shifted around again, and he was once more facing his New Year’s Eve Curse…but this time he had a view of her long, elegant, naked back. On which Brooks had settled one large hand…right above her ass.

  Whoa. Suddenly he could hardly swallow. It looked so damn modest from the front…until you saw it from the rear. He swore he could make out the beginning of her bottom…those two sweet indentations right above the nice sassy curve. And her hair was up, so he could see where the wide halter buttoned with three glittering garnet fasteners at the nape of her neck.

  He peeled his eyes away and realized he hadn’t given a damned thought to Laney since he caught a glimpse of Tess. Frigging idiot, Wilder. How many more New Year’s Eves are you going to let her fubar?

  “Oh, look—there’s Harry Devine. I’ve been wanting to dance with him. Hi Harry,” said his mom in a very loud voice as the song came to an end…and because the band was killer, they knew better than to give their audience a chance to slip from the dance floor, so they went right from “Unforgettable” into “Lady in Red” with hardly a change of chord.

  “Do you mind if I claim this next dance with your father, Tess? You can dance with him any time,” Mom was saying as she intercepted Mr. Devine, who was just relieving Brooks from his dance with Tess.

  The next thing Wilder knew, he was facing Tess in the middle of the dance floor. Right in the middle, so there was no easy escape. Her face was stony, which, could he blame her?

  “Guess we’re dancing,” he said, trying out his signature grin, and reached for her. “And, hey, it’s your song—‘Lady in Red.’” He gestured to her sparkling cabernet gown.

  “I wouldn’t want to upset your very sexy date,” she hissed. But her cheeks had high patches of red on them that he was pretty sure wasn’t makeup.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “My comment was uncalled-for.”

  “It certainly was,” she snapped. They weren’t dancing, but more like facing off in the middle of a crowd of people. Strobe lights flickered around and over them and the music was loud enough that he could hardly hear her, let alone anyone else. “My ex-husband might be an asshat, but that’s beside the point. I hope you have better luck getting into your very sexy date’s pants than you did to mine. She might fall for your lines, but I sure didn’t.”

  With that, she turned and flounced away.

  Chapter Ten

  After their little tete-a-tete on the dance floor, Tess hadn’t seen Wilder again for well over an hour…which was just fine with her. He was probably shoving his hand down his sexy date’s dress in some dark corner. That made her doubly glad she’d never fallen for his moves.

  And….She sighed. It was almost midnight, and she hadn’t found Lewis anywhere. Texts to him had gone unanswered. She guessed it would be pretty darn hard to kiss the guy if he wasn’t even present, so she figured the bet was off…even though she’d pretty much decided she was going to kiss him this year. Why not?

  Annabelle seemed to be missing, and Grace was in what looked like some heavy conversation with her two dates. Or maybe they weren’t dates at all. For all she knew, Grace could be in the middle of some FBI stakeout and the two hotties were her team.

  So neither of her sisters would notice if she kissed Lewis or not. She was off the hook. They were all off the hook.

  “Where are you going, young lady?” From nowhere, a clawlike hand grabbed Tess’s arm. “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Aunt Helen.” Tess tried to keep her lack of enthusiasm from being too obvious. “I was just…going to check the coat room over here to see—”

  “Don’t you have a handsome young man to kiss? What about the one you were just dancing with? He looks like he’d be able to take out that pansy you married, and with one blasted hand behind his back.” She spoke with relish, her silvery beaded handbag dancing violently from the handle of her cane.

  “Vance? Oh, he’s not exactly my type. Besides, I think he and Brooks and the other cops are going to get called into work. That supposed ice storm is really happening,” Tess replied, and at that moment noticed a glint on the floor near the coat room. She bent and picked up a breathtakingly lovely evening shoe. It looked almost like a glass slipper—but it was even more gorgeous than any Cinderella had ever worn. “A Louboutin,” she breathed. “What on earth is this doing here? And where’s the other one?”

  “What’s that?” Aunt Helen screeched. “A lobo-what?” She stamped her cane on the ground. “Don’t know how anyone could walk in those durned things. Heel must be six inches tall!”

  “Oh, but it’s worth it,” Tess said, slipping her foot in just to try it out. Gorgeous. And expensive. Whoever lost it would definitely be wanting it back.

  But she didn’t want to leave it where it might be seen—or stolen. So she slipped it behind the coat room entrance, tucking it around the corner on the floor, and turned to attend to her great-aunt who was still babbling on about something.

  “What about that Wilder boy?” Aunt Helen was demanding. At the top of her lungs. Thank goodness they weren’t in the ballroom, but instead were at the coat room. “You’ve always had a thing for him since you were serving him beer when you all were too durned young to be drinking it!”

  “What?” Tess couldn’t believe the old bat could remember that far back, and in such detail.

  “Oh, don’t think I didn’t notice that, Tessy girl. I’ve helped solve
murders, you know. I see things even Adrian Monk wouldn’t notice.” Aunt Helen stomped with her cane again, and her evening bag slid to the floor.

  Like the well-trained niece she was, Tess stooped to pick it up and noticed it bore a marked resemblance to her own handbag…which reminded her she’d left it on the table behind the band. “We’ve been friends for a long time,” she said. “But it’s never been anything more than that.”

  “Hmph.” Aunt Helen clearly did not believe her, even though Tess was speaking the truth. “Seems to me, missy, you’d be better off with a man who’s been in love with you for ten years than that philandering sneak you married.”

  Tess gaped at her. She wasn’t certain which part of her comment she found more objectionable—and she certainly didn’t have any idea how to respond that wouldn’t get her in trouble with Mom. Just went to show that even eagle-eyed Aunt Helen was wrong sometimes.

  “I’m not gonna tell you I had a chance to be married, Teresa—b’cause I didn’t. I never found a man could keep up with me, or one I respected enough. Back in my day, we was told to be quiet and let the man make the durned decisions. Take the lead. Have the career. Pah! I wasn’t ever going to let that happen. But a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have the same trouble I did—men’re different now.” She wagged a crooked finger in her face, her dark eyes gleaming furiously.

  “Right,” Tess said, nodding, trying to keep her expression bland. Back away slowly. “It’s almost midnight, Aunt Helen. And it looks like something’s going on in there—look, Grace is up onstage. With Dad.” Oh boy.

  Tess’s heart squeezed. Even with two dates her sister couldn’t make it happen? Poor Grace.

  “What? Where’s her date? Didn’t she have two men here with her? Can’t you durned Devine girls do anything right?” Aunt Helen stomped off as fast as she could go with her handbag thumping against her cane.

  Tess heaved a sigh of relief and turned…just in time to see Lewis Kampmueller rush through the door of the Club. He looked wild and a little mussed.

  “You’re…here,” she said, looking at him curiously. He looked…different.