Need You Tonight (2 page)

ONE

“Hold up. Why are you buying condoms?” Tessa snatched the box of Trojans from Sam’s
fingertips and held them up like Exhibit A. “You said this was an emergency stop.”

Sam sent her an innocent look, one that Tessa had seen her use rather effectively
on both sets of foster parents she’d shared with Sam. “What? I’m out. And we may need
them.”

“You may need condoms,” Tessa repeated. “For a
cooking
class.”

Sam grabbed another box from the rack. “
We
may need them. I’ll get some for you, too. You never know who we might meet.”

Tessa groaned and looked up at the buzzing fluorescent lights of the drugstore. Sam’s
ability to look for dating opportunities around every corner never failed to amaze
Tessa. “We’re not going to meet anyone. It’s a cooking class. It’s going to be married
couples, women, and gay men.”

Which is exactly why Tessa had agreed to go. After months of Sam trying to drag her
out to bars or clubs on Friday nights to get her over that “dickwad ex-husband,” finally
her friend had come up with something that didn’t make Tessa’s stomach turn and her
body break out into a cold sweat. But now, as she took in Sam’s snug skirt and high
heels, Tessa’s dread was growing. She’d thought Sam had simply chosen to dress up
because the class was being held at one of the swankiest restaurants in Dallas. But
now the puzzle pieces were locking together into a new picture.

“Straight men like to cook, too,” Sam pointed out as she strolled away from the prophylactics
aisle toward the cosmetics section. “Particularly when it’s a Perfect Match meet-up
event.”

Tessa’s shoe squeaked on the floor as she halted midstride. “Sam, you better be screwing
with me.”

Sam grabbed a lip gloss off a rack and held the colored cap next to Tessa’s mouth,
frowned, then picked up a different color. “I’m not screwing with you. I’m
helping
you. My friend is the receptionist at the local Perfect Match office. She offered
to sneak us onto the list because the event wasn’t full. How could I pass it up? It
was like fate tapping my shoulder. You want to scratch items off your list. This will
accomplish that and maybe get you a date as a bonus. Two for the price of one.”

“Learning to cook is on my list. Dating is not. Dating is actually diametrically opposed
to the whole spirit of the list.”

“Diametrically? Wow, someone’s getting
A
s in her night classes.” Sam gave her a teasing smile and dropped the lip gloss into
her handbasket. “And if I’m not mistaken, one of the items you have on that sacred
to-do list of yours is to tackle being ‘boring in bed.’ How exactly do you plan to
fix that one without actually coming into contact with the opposite sex?”

A guy perusing greeting cards across the aisle gave them a sideways glance and smirked.
Tessa’s face heated. “Could you at least try to keep your voice down while discussing
my sex life?”

“
What
sex life?” Sam replied, not bothering to lower her voice. “This is exactly why we’re
going tonight. You need to loosen up. Be open to a world of infinite possibilities.
And by possibilities, I mean hot men.”

“Ugh.” She should’ve never let Sam see her stupid list. It’d been something she’d
written down in those first few weeks after she’d left Doug and her life in Atlanta.
She’d landed in Dallas with no plan, no place to stay, no job. All she’d had was her
suitcase and a head filled with all the critical things Doug had said to her over
the course of their marriage and that final day in the kitchen.

He’d said she was nothing without him.

And as she’d sat in Sam’s guest room one night, trying to put together a resume to
apply for jobs and feeling sorry for herself, she’d realized the bastard had been
right on some level. Since she’d met Doug in high school, her entire existence had
been centered on being who he wanted her to be. Being what
everyone
wanted her to be. For Doug, it was the doting girlfriend. For her classmates, it
was the bubbly, popular cheerleader. For her foster parents, it was the girl who never
broke the rules and went to church with them every Sunday.

She’d been a master chameleon without ever realizing it. It’d kept her from being
moved to yet another home. It’d kept her safe from the vicious bullying in high school.
It’d given her a way to secure a future with a man who would take care of her. She’d
never be that little girl left alone and scared again.

Only the whole plan had been built out of Popsicle sticks. She’d counted on someone
else for her happiness and security. A fatal mistake. How had she ever let herself
be so stupid as to trust someone again? Her mother had said she’d always be there
and look how that had turned out. Trust was for suckers.

As Tessa had stared at that blinking cursor, she’d made a decision. Never would she
let herself depend on anyone else again. She would survive on her own. She’d done
it for years as a kid. She could do it now. And she wouldn’t just make it through,
she’d transform. Thrive. She’d vowed that by the end of the year, a resume of her
life would no longer be a stark blank page. She would take those insults Doug had
hurled at her and use them as fuel, not only to find a job but to tackle every facet
of her life. She’d prove that she was more than the trophy wife she’d let herself
become.

But that plan had not included dating. Sex, maybe. Eventually. She didn’t plan to
enter the convent and abstain for the rest of her life. But dating and any emotional
entanglements would only send her sliding backward. “Sam, I’m not ready to date. You
know that.”

Sam sighed and linked her arm with Tessa’s, leading her to the register. “So come
for the food and cooking lesson then. The whole point of these meet-ups is that it’s
a no pressure environment. And we’re getting sangria and a fancy meal
for free
. How long has it been since you’ve had a chance to eat at a restaurant that doesn’t
serve food wrapped in greasy paper?”

Tessa groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

One of the main reasons she was interested in cooking classes in the first place was
because she missed the delicious meals Doug’s housekeeper used to prepare for them
and all the gourmet restaurants she and Doug had gone to regularly. If she had to
eat another bowl of canned soup, she might stab herself with the spoon. But she didn’t
have the income to fund nice restaurants anymore. So if she wanted to eat something
that wasn’t frozen or canned, she was going to have to learn how to cook it herself.

Sam swiped her credit card and took her bag from the cashier. “Exactly. Barcelona
is one of the hottest restaurants around. This is your chance for a major treat. The
only sacrifice is that you’ll have to make small talk with a stranger who happens
to have a penis. Big deal.”

Tessa sighed, her ability to fight against Sam’s hopeful gaze crumbling. Sam had good
intentions, even if they were misguided. And really, what was a little awkward small
talk with someone Tessa would never see again when there was free sangria to be had?
“You’re lucky I’m a sucker for tapas.”

Sam’s face broke into a grin, and she pulled out the lip gloss to give it to Tessa.
“Gloss up, babe. Let’s go cook some shrimp and break some hearts.”

When Tessa walked through the doors of Barcelona, it was like walking through a portal
to a world she wasn’t a native of anymore. Soft Spanish music played, the scent of
exotic spices drifted through the air, and the saffron-colored walls flickered with
the dancing light of candlelit tables. Every detail screamed trendy elegance and money.
As did most of the guests sitting at the tables. She could almost see her old self
sitting among them, glass in hand, diamonds sparkling at her throat, her husband sitting
across from her telling her about the latest plan he was working on. Anyone looking
at them would’ve been envious.

But seeing the image in her mind’s eye now showed a picture that was warped and tarnished.
An illusion. The conversation would’ve been one-sided because Tessa had never understood
Doug’s business speak. The diamond choker around her neck would’ve probably been a
guilt gift he’d given her after one of his affairs. And the glass would’ve been filled
with sparkling water instead of wine because Doug didn’t allow drinking for either
of them in public.

She didn’t miss this world.

And she didn’t miss that woman.

“Hello, ladies, do you have a reservation?” the host asked.

Sam stepped forward. “We’re here for the cooking class.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, his smile welcoming. “Follow me. You’ll be in the banquet room.”

The host led them through the main dining area and then through a short hallway and
another set of doors. The banquet room looked much like the other side of the restaurant,
but the lights weren’t as low and there were tables set up around the perimeter with
cooking equipment and little bowls of ingredients. In the center of the room, there
were smaller, more intimate tables where they’d presumably eat their meal after learning
how to prepare it. Pitchers of sangria gleamed ruby red on each table. A number of
people were already sitting at the small tables, mingling and drinking. The tinkling
sounds of nervous, first-date laughter mixed in with the music.

Tessa’s stomach did a flip, and she almost turned to leave. Sam put a hand on Tessa’s
arm, as if reading her unspoken intention, and guided her forward. “Don’t chicken
out now.”

A man with a clipboard near the entrance grinned brightly. “Welcome to the meet-up
ladies. I’m Jim, your event liaison for the night. Names?”

“I’m Samantha Dunbar, and this is Tessa McAllen.”

Jim scanned the clipboard, nodding. “Ms. Dunbar, your perfect match is Cory Heath,
table five. He’s already here if you’d like to head over and say hi. We’re letting
everyone chat and enjoy their drinks for a few minutes before the class starts. Break
the ice, you know?”

“Sure,” Sam said, peeking over at the salt and pepper-haired guy at table five, scanning
him from head to loafer. “Sounds good.”

But Tessa’s brain snagged. “Wait a second. I thought we were mingling with everyone?”

Jim smiled. “Oh, no, ma’am. Perfect Match is full service. We took the profile you
sent us and matched you up with someone compatible for the evening. No use wasting
time on people you have nothing in common with, right?”

“The
profile
I sent in?” Tessa asked, shooting daggers at Sam.

Sam sent her a please-don’t-kill-me look and gave Tessa’s hand a squeeze. “Just try
to have a good time, okay? I promise, it’s no big deal. It’ll be fun.”

With that, Sam hurried off toward her “perfect match.” Tessa had to fight hard not
to lose it right there. Not only was she going to have to manage a date with a stranger,
but said stranger would be under the impression that they’d been matched together.
And God only knew what Sam had put in Tessa’s profile. Probably that she enjoyed long
walks on the beach, tantric sex, and belly dancing.

Jim was scanning his list again, and Tessa smoothed the front of her dress. She hadn’t
thought to put much effort into her outfit tonight. This was supposed to be a cooking
class after all. So she’d stayed in the pale pink blouse and black skirt she’d worn
to work. But now she felt plain and out of place. Everyone else had put on their A-game
ensemble for date night.

God, why was she even worrying about it?
This isn’t a real date.
She’d been trained by Doug to look her best at all times because you never knew who
you’d run into, and sometimes that old urge was hard to shake. But she wasn’t here
to impress anyone. She was here to drink sangria and to learn how to cook. That’s
it.

The door opened behind her as more people came in.

“Ms. McAllen?” Jim asked, a small frown curving his thin lips as he lifted his gaze
from the clipboard. “Do you have your confirmation number with you? You’re not showing
on my list.”

“My what?” She automatically put her hand on her purse but knew she had nothing of
the sort in there. “No. My friend set all this up for us both.”

“Hmm.” Jim tapped his pencil on the clipboard. “Well, I’m not showing you on here,
which means we don’t have confirmation of your payment. If you’d like to pay the fee
now, we can let you stay for the class. Then if you find your confirmation, we’ll
refund you. But since you weren’t on the list, we won’t have a match set up for you.
You’d be staying for the cooking portion only unless we have any other walk-ins.”

No match? That sounded like a fantastic idea. She’d never been so happy to be left
off a guest list. “How much is it?”

“Two hundred dollars.”

A gasp escaped her lips.
Two hundred dollars?
She should’ve expected it at a place like this, but the number still caught her off
guard. And it was a number she couldn’t fund. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to find out what
happened to my original fee and do this another time. Maybe I can talk to my friend
and see if she has the information.”

He smiled kindly, but she saw the instant dismissal in his eyes. He knew she was bailing
because she didn’t have the money. He knew she didn’t belong there. “Of course.”

Shame tried to edge in, heating her cheeks. But she swallowed it back. She would not
get teary over missing some stupid cooking class. She took a step to head toward Sam’s
table, hoping that even though they were technically party crashers, her friend had
some magical confirmation number. But before she could move forward, a warm hand touched
her elbow.

“I’ll cover the fee.”

She stiffened at the touch, but the rich timbre of the man’s voice rolled over Tessa
like sun-heated ocean water, making her want to close her eyes and soak in it, stay
there a while. She turned around, her gaze going up, up, up, and finally colliding
with clear blue eyes, a face made for Greek sculpture, and lips . . . God, his lips.
She couldn’t imagine those had ever been used for anything but sex and sin.