The Girl Most Likely To... Page 3

  Bad thoughts.

  Dangerous thoughts.

  “Pharmacists?” he asked.

  She blinked, trying to recall what they’d been talking about, then picked up the conversation just in time to avoid looking like a total idiot. “Yeah, they’re pharmacists. Is that a problem? Do you think they’re going to slip something in my martini and kidnap me into a life of bondage?”

  “Doubt it.” It sounded to Dana as though he half wished they would. She was half wishing herself away from here, too. The images playing in her mind were the sort that could get her into major hot water. Or a shower for two, if she was very, very lucky.

  Dana shook off the thought. She began a mental litany of the reasons Cal Brewer was not a candidate for casual sex:

  He was a cop, and on sheer principle, she was opposed to having sex with a cop.

  He was her best friend’s brother.

  He was…

  He was…sliding his hand down until it rested at the small of her back. Just the tiniest bit lower…

  The pressure from his fingertips increased infinitesimally. Her gaze shot to his. His expression was relaxed, almost bland. She frowned. Maybe she’d just wished that whisper of a caress into being, but she didn’t think so.

  They danced in silence. Dana had never been more conscious of every inch of her skin, the way the satin of her dress rubbed against it, the heat of his body against hers and the answering fire burning where there’d been nothing but emptiness a few minutes earlier. She worked hard not to blurt an offer she knew she’d eventually regret.

  Oh, the way this man could move, though.

  “Are you in town alone?”

  She not only heard the question, the sound of his voice vibrated through her. She was so close—too close—to telling him how very tired she was of being alone.

  Not that Cal would care, or understand. Alone wasn’t part of his vocabulary. He’d dated just about every available woman in Sandy Bend. Except her.

  “Yes.”

  “Were you planning on meeting anyone?”

  She leaned back until her eyes met his. His expression was guarded, as always.

  “What’s with the inquisition?”

  He shrugged. “Just curious about what you’re doing here.”

  Curious, she understood. Curious about how hot his mouth would feel against hers. Curious about how he’d react if she invited him up to her room for a night of no-holds-barred lovemaking.

  It had to be the martinis sending her imagination where it had no right to be, but whatever the cause, she needed to escape. Dana gave him the type of response she would have given his father.

  “I think the answer’s pretty obvious. I’m in training to become a trophy wife. Tonight, dancing at the Almont. Tomorrow I go to Tiffany’s and learn to spot a flawless diamond.”

  His mouth quirked, but it wasn’t a real smile. “Are you always so sarcastic?”

  Only when cornered, and being this close to Cal was like giving up her free will. She tried to tug away. “I should have stuck with the pay-per-view movies and macadamia nuts.”

  He held fast. “What?”

  “Never mind.” She wrenched free. “Look, this has been great and all, but I’m really tired and I need to get back to my room.”

  Silent, he walked her to the edge of the dance floor. As soon as she could, Dana shot away from him. She made her apologies to her pharmacist friends, picked up her purse and hightailed it toward the elevators.

  As she did, she gave herself a pat on the back. Burning off sexual energy with Cal Brewer would have been about as bright as playing with explosives.

  So why did she feel so miserable?

  Her steps slowed. She took her time planting one green sling-back pump after the other on the ivy pattern trailing down the plush carpet. The unfortunate truth was she’d always been a woman with a fondness for fireworks, and had the scorched ego to prove it. This time, though, she’d played it safe. And while her move had been good and smart, safe was also as boring as her high school Citizenship class.

  “Dana—”

  Cal had followed her. Alarm—and something hungrier—tingled through her.

  She picked up her pace, bypassed the elevators and headed straight for sanctuary, complete with its shiny brass sign reading Ladies’ Lounge.

  She didn’t relax until the door closed behind her.

  “Gotcha, Brewer,” she murmured as she sunk into a cushioned floral-chintz armchair.

  The door opened and Cal stepped in.

  “You’re kidding,” she said.

  He ignored her long enough to check out the stalls in the adjoining room for occupants. He emerged, apparently satisfied they were alone.

  “Nice digs you women have,” he said as he scoped out the mirrored makeup table with its bottles of perfume and hand lotion waiting on a lacquered tray.

  She refused to meet his eyes, checking instead for imaginary chips in her fingernail polish. “Not that it appears to give us any privacy.”

  He laughed as he settled on the couch that matched her armchair. “We’re private enough.”

  “I was referring to women, not to the two of us.”

  “Want to tell me why you ditched me on the dance floor?”

  “About as much as I want to be sitting in the ladies’ room with a man.”

  “No, really,” he said in a stony voice. “I’m not used to being treated like a plague carrier.”

  “This isn’t about you.”

  His mouth quirked into a brief smile. “Really? I’ve always been pretty sure that it is. Anytime I get near you, I can practically see you sharpening your knives.”

  Dana shrugged, feigning a casualness she didn’t feel. She didn’t want to have a personal conversation with Cal. She didn’t want that tempting sense of intimacy.

  “That’s your imagination,” she said, not that she’d ever considered him an imaginative man. He was a cop, after all.

  Cal stood. “Look, I don’t figure we have much longer before someone walks in. I just wanted to apologize for asking you why you’re in Chicago. It’s none of my business and I know that. I got it into my head that somehow Hallie was involved, that she was trying to set me up again. She did everything but beg me to stay here tonight, and—”

  Dana was a “big picture” kind of woman, and this one was arriving in screaming Technicolor. She had only the apple martinis to blame for not seeing it sooner…. Hallie Whitman was the Queen of Benevolent Schemers.

  “I came here with your sister,” she admitted. At Cal’s self-satisfied expression, she added, “But you can spare me the end zone dance. If I had thought for a minute that she was trying to get us together, I would have planted my butt in Sandy Bend until it was old and arthritic.”

  He grinned. “Sandy Bend, or your butt?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “So, where’s Hal?” he asked.

  “Steve blew out his knee. She had to go back home.”

  “Right. I’ll believe it when I see him on crutches.”

  Dana stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. She noticed the way Cal’s eyes followed her hands like a caress in their wake. The thought sent a warm, silken feeling curling through her.

  “Do you really think Hallie would make up something like that?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  “She’s done more outrageous things.”

  Dana couldn’t argue the point. “Apology accepted.” She held out her hand. “Truce?”

  His hand closed over hers. Once again, she could feel her will slipping away.

  “How about a permanent end to the hostilities?”

  “Fair enough.” She withdrew her hand and walked to the door.

  Cal pulled it open for her and ushered her through. “Evening, ladies,” he said cheerfully to the matrons who’d been about to enter. Lips pinched tight with disapproval, they marched through the door he held for them.

  “Have a good one,” he added.

  “I’m pr
etty sure they think we just did,” Dana said as they walked toward the elevators.

  He laughed. “And I’m pretty sure if we had, we wouldn’t have been the first ‘good one’ that room has seen.”

  If we had… The possibility teased Dana, its image so real and tempting that she could think of nothing else.

  They waited in silence until the elevator arrived. Almost unwillingly, she stepped in.

  Cal joined her. He punched the button for the nineteenth floor, then gave her an inquiring look.

  “Fifteen.”

  As the elevator rose silently and all too efficiently for Dana, he said, “I hope you have a great time tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. Are you sticking around town?”

  “No, I’m leaving in the morning. I need to get up to my lodge.”

  Although spending the day with him hadn’t been in her thoughts, disappointment washed through her. “Well, have a great time.”

  The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. She pinned on a smile. “It’s been…interesting.”

  He returned her smile, but then his expression grew serious. “The next time you see me in town, don’t head the other way.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You do, but you don’t have to.” He leaned forward and brushed a lingering kiss against her cheek. Dana’s willpower to step away had dwindled to nil.

  She could do this.

  She could ask him to her room, take care of the fire sparking between them, then forget about it tomorrow. She was sure she could do this.

  Except she didn’t have the guts.

  She stepped through the opening. “Well, bye.”

  “See you around.” The doors started sliding shut, the sound echoing that of her sinking heart. She had just thrown away the chance to live out a fantasy. Was she out of her skull?

  She wheeled around and threw herself into the breach, forcing the doors open. “Wait!”

  Cal arched his brows. “I’m waiting,” he said as he settled one finger over the Open button on the control panel.

  “I, ah…I was wondering if you’d like to come to my room for a drink.” She pushed away the last of her doubts and worked up a little two-and-a-half martini courage. “Or something.”

  The elevator alarm started buzzing, but Cal just stood there, looking as casual as the night was long.

  “Or something?”

  She nodded. “Something.”

  Tilting his head to the side, he caught her in his gaze. “You sure about this?”

  No, she wanted to blurt, I’m not sure about anything except if I don’t do this, I’ll go crazy.

  “Positive,” she squeaked, working past the lump in her throat.

  The right corner of his mouth crooked up, as though he had spotted her bluff and was about to call it. He didn’t, though. “Let me go up to my room for a minute.”

  Too dry-mouthed to speak again, she gave one last nod and stepped out of the opening. There, she’d done it—cast her fate, good or bad. Relief finally overriding nerves, she turned away.

  “Dana?”

  And back.

  He was smiling, killer dimples showing to best advantage. “Your room number?”

  Well, duh, as Amber, her favorite high school client, would say. “It’s fifteen-twelve.”

  His smile grew even broader, and Dana found herself grinning in return.

  “See you in a few minutes,” he said.

  There was a strong possibility she’d be dead of anticipation by then.

  3

  SANDY BEND was the Bermuda Triangle of cell phone operation. That, on top of the fact that Hallie usually neglected to turn on her phone, made for a shock when she answered Cal’s call.

  “So, is it his left knee again?” he asked, referring to Steve. “Or did you make the whole thing up?”

  His sister didn’t miss a beat. “Hello to you, too, Cal. And what kind of question was that?”

  He smiled and sat on the edge of a bed he had no intention of sleeping in tonight. “A pretty good one, considering…”

  She growled, as only his baby sister could. “It’s Steve’s right knee and he’s here next to me in a lovely hospital gown. Bile green with black geometric print.”

  Cal heard Steve in the background announcing, “It’s dog-ugly, and the television is broken.”

  Closer to the phone, Hallie was saying, “I’d let you talk to him, but he’s filled with painkillers and likely to tell you all sorts of private things I’d rather you didn’t know.”

  Cal grimaced. “The sentiment is mutual. Tell him I’ll stop by on Monday, once he’s home recuperating. And, Hallie, it didn’t work.”

  “What didn’t work?” she responded after a very telling pause. Good thing his sister had never decided to embark on a criminal career. He’d have had her tracked down and locked up inside a week.

  “Setting me up with your pal Dana.”

  “You saw Dana? I had no idea—”

  “Nice try. I saw her, we said hi and that was the end of it.” His story was designed to protect the parties involved. Gossip hour at the Corner Café was a Sandy Bend tradition, and his legendary dating activities had already given the participants enough fodder without mixing in Dana’s name. Talk about her wild years—the rowdy three a.m. Main Street revels and the outfits cut low enough to be illegal—had slipped into the realm of reminiscence not all that long ago. He felt this strange sense of protectiveness toward Dana, which was pretty dumb because he’d never met a woman more able to take care of herself.

  His sister cleared her throat, evidently readying to work around his silence.

  “Oh, well maybe—”

  “Well maybe nothing.” Cal combed his fingers through his hair, which was still wet from the shower he’d taken to lose the last remnants of cigar smoke. “I can find my own women.”

  She laughed. “That’s never been up for debate. Whether you can stick with one of them for longer than a month is another issue.”

  “Butt out, Hal.”

  “I never admitted to butting in,” she pointed out.

  “No confession is necessary. I’m going by your prior record.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He counted off the first three instances of meddling that came to mind. “Think back to the couples’ shower before your wedding, your wedding reception, your first day home after your honeymoon—”

  His sister had the grace to laugh. “Okay, okay, I get the point.”

  “Take care of Steve, will you?”

  “Of course, but if you happen to see Dana again—”

  “Bye, Hal.” Cal flipped his cell phone shut and grinned. Satisfied he’d thrown Hallie off track—for now, at least—he tucked his wallet and room card into his back pocket.

  He took one last minute to ask himself if he knew what he was doing. He shrugged at the “probably not” that came in response. He wasn’t sure what bizarre combination of fate and insanity had him hooking up with Dana Devine, but he planned to enjoy every minute. Never let it be said Cal Brewer didn’t know paradise when he saw it.

  WHEN DANA HEARD the knock on her door, she whirled from the bedside radio she’d just set to a jazz station. The pleasant martini buzz was beginning to fade a bit, but not enough that she was ready to chicken out.

  “Coming,” she called as she ran nervous fingers though hair she knew was beyond a quick fix. She’d already brushed her teeth and then gone through the “robe or dress” debate. “Dress” had won. No need to look as though she planned to immediately get naked, even though she did. Her nerves were too shot for delay.

  Dana peered through the door’s peephole. Cal had obviously showered. His hair, still inky dark with dampness, broke into unruly waves. He’d also changed from his blazer and khakis into jeans and a casual shirt. She choked back a laugh at her initial thought that she was overdressed. After all, they both were for what they planned to do.

  Knowing she couldn’t stall any longer, she unchained the do
or and opened it.

  “Hi,” she said, motioning him in. Now that she was lacking the added advantage of high heels, he was taller than she’d thought. And she was more nervous.

  “Hope I didn’t take too long,” he said as she closed the door and locked it once again.

  “No…no, not too long at all,” she stammered. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Dana started fumbling her way through the small refrigerator with its elegant cherry-veneered door before Cal could answer. “It looks like I have…um, mineral water and imported beer and—” she should have checked before he came into the room and wiped out her ability to think “—and some white wine.”

  She wished there were more to dig through because she simply wasn’t ready to face him.

  “Dana?”

  She eyed the jar of macadamia nuts. Technically, they didn’t need to be chilled. The chocolate bar could probably live on its own, too.

  “Are you planning on coming out of there anytime soon?”

  Admitting defeat, she turned to face him.

  He smiled. “That’s better.” Nudging her aside, he reached in and got himself a mineral water.

  “How about you?” he asked.

  “The same.” She clasped her palms together and noted that they were the tiniest bit sweaty. Not good. While he set up the drinks, she walked to the window, pulled back the drapes and looked at the city lights.

  He joined her. Dana took the offered water. Her hand trembled, but thankfully the chilly glass would take care of the perspiring palms thing.

  He stepped closer to the window and looked up. “Good.”

  “Good, what?”

  “I can see a little slice of the sky.” He took a swallow of his water, then smiled. “I guess I have enough small-town guy in me that I need to see the stars—even when I’m in the city.”

  “Well, you don’t get quite as many of them here.”

  “But the place has its compensations,” he said, raising his glass in a toast to her.

  Dana managed a lame, “Thanks.” What had happened to that quick mouth she’d always taken for granted? “Would you like to sit down…or something?” She winced as the “or something” slipped from her lips. That phrase seemed to be launching itself with scary frequency tonight.