Need You Tonight (3 page)

She wanted to bite them.

As that image flitted through her mind, any shot she had at a normal, polite response
evaporated into mist.

“I’d hate for you to miss one of the best meals of your life because of a computer
glitch,” the man said with a ghost of a smile.

Tessa simply stared back like she hadn’t understood the language he spoke. The way
he held her gaze had her thoughts scattering and her brain reaching for some memory
she couldn’t quite grab ahold of. She shook her head, breaking the gaze and trying
to clear her head.
No
.
Get it together, Tessa
. This stranger was offering to pay two-hundred dollars for her to eat. She knew how
that worked. She’d played that game before. “Really, that’s very kind of you to offer.
But I’ll just come back another time.”

He pulled his wallet from his pocket, pulled two crisp bills from it, and handed it
to Jim. “I insist. And it’s no problem. I’m sure they’ll pay me back when they find
your original reservation.”

Tessa shook her head again, even though her mind was already fast-forwarding and picturing
how decadent it would be to sit and sip sangrias with this stranger. But she couldn’t
fall into her old habits and let him pay her way. It didn’t matter that he was gorgeous
or that he didn’t seem to mind or that he was wearing a watch that said two-hundred
dollars was insignificant for him. “I’m sorry. I can’t take your money.”

Before the stranger could protest, she moved past him and the few people waiting behind
them to head for the door. She needed to get out—now. She knew it was ridiculous,
but she had the sudden urge to cry, to scream, to pound on something. All she’d wanted
tonight was to relax and have a fun girl’s night with Sam. Instead, she’d been reminded
of the life she used to have, how feeble her bank account was now, and how fucked
up she was when it came to men.

She moved through the hallway that led back to the main dining room in a rush, hoping
to reach the parking lot before the tears broke free, but a hand touched her shoulder.
“Hey, hold up.”

The quiet command of his voice and the gentleness of the touch had her slowing her
step before she could think better of it. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and
turned around, speech prepared. But when she saw the genuine concern on his face,
her words got stuck in her throat.

He tucked his hands in his pockets, the move pulling his black dress shirt snug across
what looked to be long, lean muscles beneath. His eyes scanned hers. “Are you okay?
I didn’t mean to chase you off.”

She put her hand to her too-hot forehead, trying to catch her breath and center herself.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. I’m fine. This night just isn’t working out like I thought
it would.”

“Expected to meet your perfect match?”

She made a sound that was some mixture of a snort, a sob, and a laugh. “Ha. Hardly.
What a joke that is. A perfect match.”

His mouth lifted at the corner, his blue eyes dancing in the flickering light of the
wall sconces. “Come on, you don’t think there’s the perfect someone out there for
everyone? Someone who’s meant to fit only with you? All the movies say so.”

“Movies sell us a bill of goods,” she said flatly. All that mystical aligning of stars
was such bullshit. People got into relationships for what it could do for them. When
the benefit ran out, they moved on. She’d seen that proven over and over again.

“Uh-huh,” he said, his tone teasing. “So you’re telling me you paid two-hundred dollars
to attend something you don’t buy into?”

“I didn’t pay,” she admitted. “A friend told me she’d get me on the list. And I—I
wanted to learn to cook and to taste the food.”

He glanced back at the closed door and chuckled. “Ooh, a party crasher. How scandalous.”

His low laugh was like a gust of summer air across her nerve endings, reminding her
of someone long ago. Someone she hadn’t had to be a chameleon for. She found herself
smiling, her dour mood lifting. “That’s me. A scandal a minute. And now I’m causing
more. I’m sure your perfect match date is anxiously awaiting you inside.”

“Nah, I’m not sold on a perfect match, either. But instant attraction . . .” He stepped
closer and the air in the room thickened and warmed. “That I subscribe to. So, Ms.
Party Crasher, answer me one question. Are you leaving because you were opposed to
the money or me?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the question and his nearness. “What?”

“You came here tonight to take a class and have a nice meal. I was happy to help you
do that. So, did you turn down my offer because you think the money comes with strings
or is it because you’re opposed to spending the evening with me?”

“I—” She wet her lips. The way he’d said
spend the evening with me
had her mind conjuring pictures of him braced over her, his blond hair mussed, his
eyes burning through her, and that sensual mouth whispering dirty, filthy things in
her ear. Her thighs clenched, and she tried to come up with something to say that
wasn’t,
God, you’re beautiful, please push me up against this wall and make me forget my name.
“I can’t accept the money.”

That answer seemed to please him. “And me?”

She couldn’t tell if it was the warm, smoky spices from the restaurant mixing in,
but even the scent of him was exotic and dangerous, tempting. She wanted to bury her
face in the open collar of his shirt and inhale. And possibly lick. No, scratch the
possibly
on that, tasting would definitely need to be involved. All her resolve disintegrated
in the space between breaths. “I’m not opposed.”

He reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, the simple brush
of fingers like lightning rods touching her skin. “So if I promised you I wouldn’t
pay a dime for the rest of the evening, would you agree to spend it with me?”

She swallowed hard, the notion almost too much for her psyche to absorb. She knew
what he was offering wasn’t simply dinner and a chat. There was a ripple of heat beneath
each uttered word, a promise. Her body was on board with this plan, whether her good
sense agreed or not. Already, she could feel the flush of arousal tightening her nipples
and making her panties cling. She hadn’t been touched by anyone since Doug, and her
experiences with him had always been underwhelming. Just being close to this mystery
man made everything inside her feel hot and alive. But it’d be stupid and reckless
to say yes. She’d never had a one-night stand. She didn’t even know if she was capable
of it. Plus, what if she really
was
boring in bed?

She’d told herself that Doug had thrown that out there just to hurt her, but what
if there was some truth to it? Her sexual history was nearly nil since she’d gotten
married so young. What if she hopped in bed with this guy and was completely out of
her league?

“I can’t leave. I’m my friend’s ride,” she said, her voice thready and breathless
from him being so close.

His smile was slow, sexy. “I never said we had to leave.”

She closed her eyes, his mere presence overwhelming her system and making her heart
pound in her throat. “What do you mean?”

His breath brushed her ear. “Take my hand, and I’ll show you.”

A shiver worked its way down her neck and along her skin. Every nerve ending screamed
for his touch, all the years of pent-up frustration surging to the surface and demanding
relief. She needed this escape, this release. She needed to feel like a woman again.

When she looked up at him finally, the pure confidence and interest shining there
in his eyes had her nerves smoothing. She knew in that moment that this man would
never allow her to be boring in bed. This was a man who got what he wanted. A man
who wouldn’t be afraid to tell her exactly what to do, how he liked it, and how he
was going to have her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t so interested in sangria anymore.

Or sitting in the car alone to have a good cry.

She reached out and let her hand slide into his.

Maybe she’d scratch something off her list tonight after all.

TWO

After settling her at the bar, Tessa’s mystery date ordered her a sangria.

“Hey, you said you weren’t going to spend any money,” she reminded him. Not that she
was opposed to a guy buying her a drink, but she was holding him to his word.

“On the house, ma’am,” the bartender offered as he slid the fruity concoction her
way.

Tessa lifted an eyebrow at her date. “Are you the house?”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a boyish expression that almost looked out of
place on his Nordic features. “Something like that. Will you excuse me for a few minutes
while I get us a table?”

“That’s fine.” She lifted her drink in mock salute and sipped, the rich taste like
an elixir for her nerves. God, she’d missed good wine. “I’ll keep this lonely drink
company.”

“Lucky for the drink.” He looked to the bartender. “Make sure the lady has whatever
she likes.”

“Yes, sir,” the bartender said with a quick nod as he poured drinks for other guests.

Before he could turn to leave, she reached for his shirtsleeve, a sudden thought hitting
her. “Wait, I don’t even know your name.”

His smile was easy, pleased. “I know. Yet, you said yes anyway.”

She bristled. Well, hell, what did he mean by that? That she was some trampy chick
that didn’t even worry about names before she let some stranger seduce her in a hallway?
She frowned, her own internal answer surprising her. Shit.
Did
she care about his name? This wasn’t a real date. It wasn’t get-to-know-you-to-see-if-we’re-meant-to-be
time. They both understood what this was. His name, what he did for a living, where
he lived—did any of that matter tonight?

No. It didn’t. In fact, maybe it’d be easier if she didn’t know all that much about
him. That’d make it easier to keep this casual and fun. No risk.

“Call me Van,” he said smoothly.

“Van,” she repeated. She got the distinct impression that was some sort of nickname.
He wasn’t offering his last, and she wasn’t asking. And if he was going to use a semi-faux
name, so could she. “Contessa.”

That was the name on her birth certificate, so it wasn’t a lie. But she hadn’t used
the pretentious-sounding thing since elementary school and had legally changed it
to Tessa a few years back. However, it was the perfect fit for her night off from
her real life. Tonight she wasn’t going to be the recovering trophy wife trying to
scrape her way through this new life. Tonight she was going to be a carefree woman
who’d scored a fling with a man so freaking gorgeous, he looked like he could’ve walked
off a movie set. And she refused to feel bad or guilty about it. She deserved this
indulgence, dammit.

“Contessa.” Van said her name as if he were rolling it around on his tongue and tasting
the flavor of it. He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the top of
it while holding her gaze. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She swallowed hard as a hot shiver chased up her arm and down her spine. Man, he was
good. Good enough that she should probably be running the other way. Men that smooth
and good-looking were dangerous. But hell if she could bring herself to move. Or speak.

“Stay put, Contessa. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He released her hand, leaving her tongue-tied, and headed toward the main dining room.
Tessa turned back to the bar to gather herself. She wrapped her palms around her glass
to steady her shaking hands. The bartender gave her a quick glance and a barely concealed
smirk. Jesus, she must look like some swooning twit. But this wasn’t even close to
a fair fight. It’d been so long since she’d had a man lay his charm on her, and certainly
never one with as much presence as Van.

Looking back, she realized Doug had never had to truly charm or court her. He’d won
her with over-the-top flattery, pretty words, and expensive gifts. Things her inexperience
had mistaken for love. He hadn’t had to work any harder than that. He’d been handsome
and popular. A jock. The perfect match to her cheerleader. And he’d made her promises
she was starved for—promises of security, permanence, and safety. A home she would
never have to leave.

What a fucking joke it had all been. He’d wanted a wife for window-dressing. Maybe
he’d loved her at some point, or thought he had, but obviously anything that had been
there had quickly faded, especially after they’d tried to have kids and failed. She’d
been stupid to believe marriage would give her some sort of insta-family, some place
in the world. Marriage was a sham sold by fairy tales and movies. Of all her married
friends, how many had made it past that ten-year mark? Probably not even half. And
the ones who were still together, how many were fooling around behind their spouse’s
back like Doug was?

She finished her drink and ordered a second.

No, this was better. She had her eyes wide open now. No starry-eyed love or misplaced
trust mucking up the waters. Tonight she’d probably sleep with Van. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t
call her. And she wouldn’t be waiting for him to do so. No expectations or obligations.
No need for lies and pretenses.

In fact, the faux name was going to be her first and last fib of the night. If they
were going to have a date, she was going to be one-hundred-percent honest and completely
herself. Not the version she thought he wanted to see. She was done with all those
bullshit games she’d played for so long. If that screwed things up, then so be it.
He didn’t deserve to see her naked if that was the case.

A warm hand pressed against her lower back, startling her off her internal soapbox.

“I’m ready for you now.”

She wet her lips and set her drink down. The way he’d said it—
I’m ready for you
instead of
Are you ready?—
had made something flutter inside her. Nerves. Anticipation. She wasn’t sure, but
the feeling was far from unpleasant. She turned to face him, letting him help her
off the stool. “Where to?”

He offered her his crooked arm. “Follow me.”

They walked through the dining room, turning a few heads. She didn’t doubt the glances
were for Van and not her. Something about the man called for attention. Not just his
height and good looks, but some regal air that enveloped him. She scanned the room
as they walked, looking for empty tables, but the place was packed. When they reached
the back of the restaurant, Van led her away from the dining room and toward a door
down a small hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“Up,” he said, pulling the door open for her and guiding her forward.

A set of stairs greeted her along with a chain that had a Closed sign hanging from
it. She peeked back over her shoulder. “I don’t think we’re supposed to go up here.”

He leaned past her and unhooked the chain. “I promise they won’t kick us out.”

So he worked here apparently. Maybe he was the general manager or one of the owners.
That last one was a distinct possibility. The man definitely strolled around like
he owned the place. But she had a feeling he walked around
every
place like that. Without voicing her questions, she headed up the stairs. When she
reached the door at the top, Van stepped past her and pushed the door open.

She sucked in a breath at the unexpected gust of cool air and the view on the other
side. A rooftop deck spread out before them, complete with quaint little tables and
a vine-covered pergola laced with twinkle lights overhead. On the far end, there was
a long, rustic table with candles and a full outdoor stove and grill.

“Wow, this is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite spot in the restaurant. But we don’t use it during the winter
months except for the occasional party.”

“Or for a random woman you pilfer from an online dating event.”

He grinned. “Exactly. But I think it’s warm enough tonight to not be a problem.”

“So we’re going to make some poor waiter traipse up here to serve us food?”

“Nah,” Van said, taking her hand and leading her forward. “You came here to learn
how to cook. So we won’t need any staff.”

As they got closer to the long table, she saw there were little bowls of ingredients
on the far end like they’d had at the event. She glanced over at him. “
You’re
going to teach me to cook?”

He cocked his head, looking playfully offended. “What? You don’t think I can cook?”

She let her perusal of him travel from the top of his head down the front of his black
dress shirt and gray trousers to the tips of his clearly expensive shoes. “You don’t
look like you spend a lot of time in a kitchen.”

“And you don’t look like a woman who’d spend her evening crashing a date meet-up.
But looks can be deceiving, right?” He let go of her hand with a smirk, unbuttoned
his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up his forearms.

For some reason, the simple movement fascinated her, like she was watching his urbane
shell being peeled back and revealing the real man beneath. She pulled her attention
away from those big, capable hands. “So what kind of woman do I look like then?”

He gave her a similar head-to-toe assessment then met her gaze. “One who doesn’t usually
break the rules or take a risk.”

She scoffed. “Oh, really?”

His smile was knowing as he grabbed a knife and cutting board from the counter then
placed a wedge of white cheese on it. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m up here with you, aren’t I?” she said, challenging him.

He moved the knife as if marking a point in her favor on an invisible scoreboard.
“Touché.”

Following his lead, she grabbed a loaf of crusty bread and another knife to start
slicing it. “So you admit you’re a risk?”

Before she could cut into the bread, he laid his hand on hers, stilling her movements.
“Don’t use that knife. You need a serrated one for that kind of bread.”

She glanced down at his hand on hers, the warmth of his touch a little too welcome.
“Oh, right.”

He replaced the knife with one that had a jagged edge. “And I’m no more of a risk
than going to the dating event and sitting with a stranger.”

“So this is a date?”

He took one of the slices of bread, placed a piece of cheese atop it, and then held
it in front of her lips. She opened her mouth and let him feed her a bite of bread
and cheese. He was so close now, she could see the flecks of green mixing with the
blue in his eyes. Somehow he managed to both intimidate and cajole in one simple look.
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Contessa.”

The salty cheese hit her taste buds, and she had to remind herself to chew, to breathe.

“Good?” he asked.

She nodded, though the movement felt stiff. “Manchego. One of my favorites.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “A woman who knows her gourmet cheeses but doesn’t know how
to use a bread knife? Interesting.”

She was tempted to refute that claim, tell him it was a lucky guess, but she stopped
herself. No more lying.

“I don’t want this to be a date,” she blurted out.

His forehead creased. “What?”

“I don’t want this to be a date,” she repeated. “Dates suck. It’s two people telling
each other what they think the other person wants to hear and hoping they get it right.
It’s a farce.”

He leaned back against the table as if giving her space to voice her opinion. “Okay,
so what would you like this to be?”

“Let’s make this an un-date. No fronts, no lies, and no ridiculous promises to call
the next day. You didn’t invite me up here because you think I could be some perfect
match for your future. And I didn’t come up here for that either.”

He’d been watching her with equal parts amusement and intrigue, but now a flicker
of something else edged in, something that made her insides flip over. “So what did
you come up here for, Contessa?”

Well, here it was, her opportunity to put her money where her mouth was and be blatantly
honest. He was probably going to run, but so be it if he did. “A year ago, I walked
in on my husband cheating with my best friend. Instead of even pretending to be sorry,
he proceeded to give me a long list of my faults and told me to get used to his affairs.”

Sharp disapproval flashed over Van’s features.

But she didn’t let his reaction stop her. She needed to lay it all out there. “I left
him, my life blew up, and now I’m putting the pieces back in place. I’m not looking
to date anyone. I’m not looking for love or even a boyfriend. I came up here tonight
because I haven’t felt desire in a long time, and you made me feel that in the hallway.”

“Contessa—”

She took a deep breath. “I came up here to use you, Van. To
be
used. I need a night off from . . . all of it.”

The shift in his expression was enough to have any remaining words shriveling in her
throat. All traces of his sympathy over her story had vanished and in its place, unadulterated
lust took root. “Text your friend and tell her you’ve found a ride. I’ll have your
keys sent down to her.”

The command in his voice rippled through her. “But I—”

He pushed off the table and stood in front of her, cupping her chin. “You told me
your reasons, now do you want to hear mine? I brought you up here because from the
moment you walked into the restaurant tonight, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.
I would’ve sat through a cooking class about dishes
I
created just to be next to you. Let me give you your night off.”

She was jittery in his grasp, her body literally vibrating with the need for him to
touch her more. “But the cooking class still has two hours left. We could—”

He pressed a finger against his lips. “I promise I’ll need more than two hours. I
haven’t even given you your first lesson yet.”

Her heart was thumping and blood was roaring through her veins, heating all the best
spots. She couldn’t do this, right? She didn’t even know this guy. Considering a quickie
with him had been risky enough. But sending her ride home and spending the whole night
with him was a whole different story. “I can’t go home with you.”