Читать книгу Does She Dare? - Tawny Weber - Страница 8

“AT FIRST, I THOUGHT you were pulling some kind of prank,” Isabel said into her cell phone. She automatically glanced both ways before crossing the empty cobblestone street to the old-fashioned, brick-fronted town hall. “I mean, what’re the chances that we’re talking about Dante Luciano and the next morning he shows up at my doorstep on a Harley?”

“Definitely slim,” Audra agreed. “It’s kinda funny, though. And I’m sure he wasn’t nearly as hot as you remembered, right?”

Isabel didn’t bother to correct her. After all, admitting that actually talking to Dante Luciano in person was better than almost every sexual fantasy she’d ever had was a little pitiful.

“Did he remember you?” Audra asked.

“Hardly. I wasn’t the type to even register on his radar. I doubt Dante Luciano even remembers the night we met.” After all, he hadn’t done sweet girls. With a sigh, she realized he still probably didn’t. The question was, did she want to be sweet or not? Ten years ago, he’d scared the hell out of her.

Isabel recalled the way his eyes had slid over her body the day before. The delicious, welcoming heat of his appreciation had been blatantly clear. She shivered at the memory. Apparently she’d registered on his radar this time. And she definitely wasn’t scared.

“So I guess he’s not, you know, like a birthday wish come true, huh?” she asked, only half joking.

“No no, baby,” Audra said with a laugh. “You need training wheels first and a guy like that is bound to be as bad as that mean machine he rides. Way out of your league.”

Insulted, Isabel was tempted to defend herself. Hey, she wore big-girl panties; she could do the Man Plan. Then again, a guy like Dante was probably used to women who didn’t wear any panties. Who knew she’d reach the point of envying pantiless women and their experience? Just went to show what obsessing about sex could do to a gal. Not pretty, not pretty at all.

She sighed as she pulled open the door to the town hall. “I’ve got to go, I’ve got a business-association meeting in a few minutes.”

“Why? You’re not volunteering again, are you?”

Isabel winced.

“You are, aren’t you? Why do you do that? Don’t you have enough on your plate with starting a new business and trying to settle into a new town? C’mon, Isabel, quit with the do-gooder stuff and give yourself a break.”

Isabel puffed out a breath and tried to think of a way to defend herself. She wasn’t a do-gooder. She just wanted to fit in. To be a part of things. And since nobody ever invited her in, she volunteered.

“It’s not really volunteering,” she excused. “It’s the town planning council. They’re focused on controlled expansion, keeping the main street image intact, stuff like that. A lot of it is in preparation for the Sweetheart Festival in February.”

“What’s that?”

“To have a business on Main Street, you have to sign a contract agreeing to participate in the festival. They have a whole slew of requirements, but the promotion for the business is going to be phenomenal.”

It was all Isabel could do not to rub her hands together at the prospect. She’d been dreaming of this for years. She’d be an integral part of the town, the go-to girl for flowers and gifts.

“I want to make sure Sweet Scentsations’ placement in the festival is front and center. If I can, I’d like to provide the flowers for all the events, possibly even the gift baskets for the dignitaries. It’ll be a huge step for the business if I can pull it off. From what I understand, prime positioning like that is snapped up fast. Usually by council members.”

“Still sounds like volunteering to me,” Audra muttered. “But, whatever. Just don’t get crazy, okay? I’ve gotta go. Hey, check for hot-dude business owners while you’re in there. I’ll bet someone like that would work just fine for the Man Plan,” she advised with a laugh before she hung up.

Isabel wrinkled her nose at the phone, then tossed it into her bag. Settle for just some guy? After seeing Dante, feeling her body go into sexual overdrive, she didn’t want to settle. But Audra was the expert on all things sexual, and she obviously didn’t think Isabel could handle Dante.

Of course, a guy as hot, as gorgeous as Dante probably had his own list, or only got involved with women at his experience level. Which meant she was nowhere in the vicinity. Didn’t it figure, even within touching distance, he was still out of her reach.

TWO HOURS LATER, ISABEL stomped out of the hall, shoving her notepad into her purse. One of the reasons she’d been so excited to become involved with the business association was to take her place among the town’s business leaders. To prove herself and her main claim to fame—her planning skills. There had been ten leadership positions available, and conveniently, the association had ten attending members. But had they given one to each member? Hell, no. One guy was so special he’d be leading two committees. And her? She’d got diddly squat. Oh sure, her skills would be appreciated on any committee but they still didn’t trust her to lead.

She wanted to kick the lush fichus tree on her way out of the hall. The only reason she didn’t was the fact that the ceramic vase would probably break her toe. She should have thought of that when she’d delivered it the previous week as a show of appreciation and camaraderie for her new associates.

Associates, hell. She shoved the door open. Next time she’d deliver a cactus in a wicker pot. That way she could kick it as hard as she wanted, and hopefully it’d land on the council leader’s head.

“Isabel,” someone called out. “Wait up.”

She turned and bit back a sigh. Just what she needed, Mr. Perfect.

“Lance,” she said in greeting. His short blond hair ruffled, but didn’t muss in the brisk breeze. Even his haircut was perfect. Isabel swallowed her snarky attitude. It wasn’t Lance’s fault he was so together. She figured years of PR work as a real-estate agent had honed his persona until he was the epitome of together.

He gave her his patented smile, all friendly confidence.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said in a low tone. Ever the multitasker, he kept his gaze on her face at the same time he nodded his greeting to a passerby.

Maybe that was why things hadn’t worked out between them. He’d never managed to focus solely on her. And he’d definitely never understood her. That had been obvious back in the meeting. Oh, sure, she knew he’d been trying to talk her up, give her support. But all that talk about new ideas, time for change and new blood had clearly put people’s backs up.

Isabel told herself it wasn’t Lance’s fault. Tension shifted across her shoulders, but she forced a pleasant look on her face. No point in getting upset or taking him to task. She’d done that once or twice before, but he was oblivious. To Lance, his way was the only way and anyone who didn’t agree simply needed his friendship and advice even more.

Being mad at him was like trying to be pissed at Mary Poppins. Pointless and frustrating. Because inevitably, he always felt he knew best.

“I wanted to talk with you about the meeting. You seemed a little disappointed.” He pulled a face and rubbed his hand on her shoulder. Isabel pulled away. For some reason his touch gave her the creeps now that they’d split up. Besides, it drove her nuts when people patted her like she was a little kid who needed placating. Small didn’t mean stupid, she wanted to yell. Of course, since that urge came with the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she didn’t figure he’d believe her.

“I didn’t realize, of course, that you might volunteer for any of the positions or I would have warned you,” he continued reasonably. “Santa Vera is growing rapidly, but at heart, it’s still a small town, and there are a lot of small-town attitudes that come with that. It’s not that you don’t fit in,” he said. Isabel supposed his tone was supposed to be soothing, but the way it grated down her spine made her want to scream. “It’s just a matter of time. People have to get used to you. To see what you have to offer. Give it time.”

Time? She’d been here for six months. How much time did they need, for crying out loud? Back in Auburn, she’d have led any committee she wanted. But of course, her parents had been well-known business owners.

She tried to shake off her irritation, knowing it was pointless. Too many times to count, she’d been frustrated in the face of his implacable fortitude.

“I think I’d be fine with the council’s expectations,” she said, trying to keep the pout off her lower lip. “I’m a successful businesswoman, after all. You could have mentioned that back there, you know. Your respect for my qualifications probably would have gone a long way with them.”

“Give yourself time. I’d advise you to volunteer to serve on one of the committees. You know, observe, learn the ins and outs of how we operate here. Give people a chance to see how efficient you are and to appreciate what you have to offer. In a couple years, they’ll be welcoming you as a committee leader.”

Isabel ground her teeth. It was like he was talking to a little kid. Was there not one person who believed she could jump in and excel? No wonder she had hang-ups with everyone who doubted her.

He reached over to pat her shoulder again, this time giving it a brief squeeze. “You’ll catch on. If you need help, feel free to give me a call.”

Isabel’s eyes narrowed as Lance turned and walked away, his gray pinstripe suit a vivid contrast to the other more casually dressed businesspeople milling around the hall. That was the second time today someone had intimated that she was in over her head. What was up with that? Was she really so incompetent that she couldn’t handle a simple committee role? Or a man like Dante Luciano?

She pursed her lips and sighed. Well…maybe Dante was a bit more than she’d thought she could handle before. But wasn’t that the purpose of the Man Plan? To push out of her comfort zone and have mind-blowing, awesome sex.

Not an easy thing to do when everyone seemed to have so little faith in her abilities on any level—be it business or sex.

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Isabel arranged a winter bouquet of hothouse lilies.

Was it her? Did she come across as incapable of running with the big dogs? Sweet little Isabel, why don’t you go read a book instead of trying to ride that skate-board? Oh, Isabel, don’t be silly, you don’t know enough people to win as class president; you’d just be hurt if you tried. Sweetheart, quit daydreaming. Pull your head out of the clouds and set goals, instead.

All her life, she’d been pigeonholed. Protected. Because everyone expected it—hell, demanded it—she’d played it safe, in life and with her goals. Even this business, as much as she had emotionally invested in it, was a well-calculated risk. And now that she wanted to break out of the box? Expand herself, reach for the stars? What did she get? Naysayers and doubt.

Just once, she’d like have someone expect huge things from her, that she be better than good enough. She wanted to be an integral part of something. Always, she was the outsider looking in, the quiet one in the back of the room. Ignored. God, she was sick of being ignored.

Her movements sharp and abrupt, she snapped the stem completely off one flower. With a little growl, she tossed it at the garbage can. It hit the rim, bounced off and slid back across the floor to land at her feet.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“You don’t seem like a happy camper,” a voice said over Nickelback’s “Photograph.”

Isabel gave a little shriek worthy of any horror-film starlet, breaking yet another of the fragile flowers and sending the vase tottering at the edge of her worktable.

“Hey,” Dante said, suddenly at her side. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Before her mind could acknowledge who had scared the crap out of her, he reached around her to steady the wobbly vase. With the push of two fingers, he moved it to the center of the table, then gave her a long, questioning look from those deep green eyes. Her body tensed as excitement swirled through her system. Her fingers shook. Ignoring the part of her yelling liar liar, she blamed the nerves fluttering in her stomach on the scare.

“You okay? I didn’t take you for the high-strung type or I would have announced myself.”

Isabel’s heart skittered. She wasn’t sure if it was from surprise, or from Dante’s proximity. But when it didn’t settle, she figured the credit went to him.

Because if anyone deserved it, he definitely did. Making a show of straightening the flowers she’d scattered, she cast a glance over him. From the tips of his beat-up work boots to the strong expanse of his shoulders, he was even sexier today than he’d been swinging off the Harley the day before.

His green eyes had that same slumberous look that made her insides melt. But instead of damp waves like the other day, his hair was a sexy, just-out-of-bed tumble to the collar of his forest-green T-shirt. Her fingers slid along the smooth stem of the flowers, imagining how that silky hair would feel in her hands. On her belly. Brushing along the sensitive skin of her thighs.

Isabel caught her breath at the image. Oh, God, he was gorgeous. She was too aroused to even be embarrassed at her thoughts.

“I’m fine,” she belatedly answered on a puff of breath. “I didn’t hear you come in, is all. I’m so used to working alone back here, I didn’t think to turn down the music to listen for the door.”

His slow grin assured her that yes, indeed, she was babbling. Isabel sucked in a deep breath and set the last flower in its space, then faced him, chin held high.

“I’m not high-strung, but I was startled. Thanks for saving the vase.” She gestured to the large glass urn. “It’s the last one I have in inventory and I’d hate to disappoint my client.”

“Since I hate being disappointed, I can definitely understand that,” he said, a wicked light twinkling in his eyes. It guaranteed he never left a woman disappointed, either. A flickering spark of desire flamed deep in her belly.

A man who guaranteed satisfaction? One who’d spend as much time as she liked, do all those deliciously wild things she dreamed of? In the past, all her fantasies of Dante had been of the things she wanted to do to him. The way she wanted to worship his body, to see it poised under hers. But now…his words spurred a whole new fantasy and in it, he was the one doing all the work.

“I wanted to get started tomorrow morning,” he continued, oblivious to the mental pleasure he was giving her. “I figured I’d check to see what supplies were on hand. We should go over some stuff, too. Schedules, the list…that kind of thing.”

The way his voice deepened, his eyes growing dark and sleepy, when he said that last part, sent Isabel’s system into overdrive. Her nipples beaded painfully beneath the light sweater she wore as the damp heat moved from her belly to her panties.

It’d been a long six weeks since she and Lance had split. Not that she couldn’t go without sex for a long time, but the sex she’d been getting prior to the split hadn’t been anything to celebrate. She was sure that was why her body went crazy over the innocent statement. Dante obviously wasn’t implying anything sexual.

Now if she could just get her body to believe that.

“It must be nice to visit home,” she babbled, trying to distract her body. “I grew up over in Auburn, only ten miles away, but it’s like a different world here. The people have been really welcoming. Since you’re from here, if you have any ideas for the renovations please feel free to share. I’m all for using whatever I can to make the business better.”

“I doubt any of my insight into the town will improve your business,” he said. Isabel frowned at the tension, almost an underlying anger, in his tone. She gave him a searching look, but he just returned a long, blank stare. It didn’t answer any questions, but it did stir her juices again. Holy cow, even with that stoic look on his face, the guy was hot.

“I didn’t realize you were already open for business,” he commented with a gesture to the floral arrangement.

“I’m not, really. At least, not to the general public. I do have a clientele from my previous floral shop I’m still serving. It seemed smart to hold on to as many existing customers as I could, you know? A lot easier than trying to tackle the goal of making this new business fly high immediately. Baby steps, small goals, all that.”

Dante shrugged, the muscles in his biceps rippling in a way that made Isabel want to nibble on him. Just there, on the arm, to see if he was as hard as he looked. If he tasted as good as she imagined.

“Why bother with little steps?” He narrowed his eyes, a wicked glint flashing in the green depths. He took one step, then two, closer. Close enough for her to smell the spicy scent of his cologne, to feel the heady heat of his body. Her own body reacted instantly, heartbeat racing as nerves battled desire in her belly. A distant memory flashed through her mind, clouded by time, wine and fear. She’d been this close to him once, that night at his party. This time, though, she knew what to do.

His voice dropped to a husky tone suited to dark nights and silk sheets. “If you want something, go for it. You might not get it the first time, but it beats pussyfooting around—playing it safe.”

“You don’t think it’s smarter to take the big steps in areas you’re good at, and smaller ones in the unknown?” she asked in a breathless tone.

“How do you get to be any good if you don’t take a chance?” Dante shrugged again, so close she could almost feel the movement of his body. “If you want something, make it happen. Otherwise, while you’re sitting there wishing, someone else will grab the ball and run with it.” He looked around the storeroom, then gestured to the photo display of her floral arrangements and the healthy houseplants thriving in the windowsill.

“You’re clearly good at what you do. You seem like a smart woman…” His gaze drifted down her body, a sensual caress of appreciation. “And definitely a beautiful one. Why wouldn’t you go for whatever you want?”

It was like he’d ripped the lock off her inhibitions, giving her permission to ask for anything she wanted. He clearly believed she could reach for the stars. Power, indelibly combined with deep swirls of desire, simmered in her belly.

“Did you ever make a birthday wish?” she asked, her gaze locked on his lips. They were so close, and she’d bet anything they tasted fabulous. She wanted to taste them, test their texture. To run her tongue over the pouty fullness of his lower lip and tempt him into wild desire.

Isabel’s breath shuddered at the image.

“Like blow out a candle and think about something you want? Sure,” he said, his voice a low murmur. The sexy purr washed over her, wrapping her in a shivery kind of excitement. “Why?”

“My birthday was last Saturday,” she murmured.

“What’d you wish for?”

Isabel licked her lips, then with a deep breath, looked up to meet his eyes. She could drown in those rich green depths. It wasn’t the sensual promise there that gave her courage, although that was mighty tempting. It was the absolute acceptance. As if he saw right through her, all the way to her fears, insecurities and body hang-ups. And he wanted her anyway. His desire for her was a tangible thing, clear and tempting.

“I wished for a birthday kiss. A really hot, really special birthday kiss,” she hedged, not ready to admit her entire fantasy wish. Ha, baby steps be damned.

A slow, sensual smile curved his lips.

Dante took one more step closer, bringing his body within caressing distance of hers. Isabel’s fingers burned with the need to run them through his hair, then down his arms. When he slid a hand behind her neck, angling her face toward his, she couldn’t stop her breathy moan.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured right before his mouth took hers.

At the touch of his lips against hers, years of dreams shattered into a million pieces. Nothing in her deepest fantasies had prepared her for the dark, rich delight he invoked through that simple caress. One brush, two. Then, his sleepy green gaze holding hers prisoner, he ran his tongue along Isabel’s bottom lip. Her breath shuddered to a halt, then whooshed out as he closed his eyes and got down to the serious seduction of her mouth.

Like the roller coaster she’d once likened him to, he took her on a terrifyingly wild ride with his mouth alone. The thrust of his tongue didn’t invite, it demanded her participation. Lights, shimmering and sparkly, flashed against Isabel’s closed lids as she gave over to the parry and thrust of his kiss. The feel of his body, deliciously hard, against her thigh, made her groan.

The sound seemed to be his signal to halt, since he slowed the slide of his tongue. One final caress, a butterfly kiss against her lips, then he gently pulled back.

Well, well. If the passion zinging through her body was any indication, he had actually improved with age. She sighed in delight.

“Hope it lived up to your wish,” he whispered.

She sighed.

“I wanted to talk to you about this list of yours,” he murmured against her hair. “There are quite few items there I really liked. I want to make sure I get them right.”

So tuned in to her body’s sighs of pleasure, Isabel barely caught his words.

“List?” she murmured.

“Right. The list of sexual scenarios. You hit on all but one of my absolute top fantasies.”

What? Isabel pulled back so fast, Dante’s arms slipped from her waist. Her skin chilled, whether it was from the loss of his body heat or his words, she didn’t care.

“List of…?”

“Sexual scenarios. Fantasies,” he expanded helpfully. Without asking, he pulled her back into his arms. She was too shocked to move again.

“You have my…” Oh God. Isabel’s mind ran in a million directions, none of them good. Part of her noted how odd it was that she wasn’t embarrassed to have had the hottest man she’d ever met read her deepest sexual fantasies. But that part was pretty well drowned out by the other parts all screaming holy shit, how’d he get the list? She’d had it on her desk, hadn’t she? When had she last seen it?

“How?” she mumbled.

“It was with the renovation instructions you handed me yesterday.”

Isabel closed her eyes and nodded. Of course it was. Anything else might be less embarrassing.

“Hey,” he said, his tone soft and sweet. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Sexual fantasies are normal, you know? It’s the people who deny their fantasy life who have problems.”

Why was she sure that meant he was completely problem-free? Then the rest of his words sunk in. Had he expected her to act like some virginal maiden shocked to have anyone realize she had a thing for sex outdoors?

“I’m not ashamed,” she said honestly. “Embarrassed, yes. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that list was missing.”

“I’ll be happy to return it,” he said with a slow grin. “Of course, I’d be happier to fulfill it with you.”

Isabel almost came then and there. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her rigid nipples and tried not to moan at even that minute contact.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say. Oh, she knew what she wanted to say. Let’s go, was the obvious reply. Then she’d suggest numbers three, four and seven. She managed to control herself, though. After all, hot and wild string-free sex was one thing. Having it with a man who was essentially working for her was another.

Besides, as much as Dante turned her on, a million doubts flew through her head. He was way out of her league, fantasy hottie or not. Hell, she’d almost come from a kiss alone. Could she keep up with a guy like that? Sure, she wanted to go for her goals—especially her fantasy ones. But she needed to think about this. Number one on her list, she had to be in control. Who knew having a wish staring you right in the face could be so scary?

So instead of dragging him into her office, shoving him down on her desk and running her tongue over his body, she gave a casual shrug.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

“You sure?” He flashed an amused look and winked. “Because I’m betting with only a few changes, that list is the outline for the best sex possible.”

Isabel gaped. “Changes?”

“Yeah, just a couple here and there.” Dante gave her that slow, sexy smile. Rubbing his finger up and down her arm in a slow, steady caress, he leaned in to brush his lips over her ear. The warmth of his breath seared through Isabel, heating her all the way to her core and making her squirm. “Change that horse to a Harley, the forest to the beach.”

The images flashed through her mind, her and Dante, both naked, on that huge black Harley of his. The rumbling power of the engine as it purred beneath them adding to the sensation as she rode him in the moonlight. Licking her lips, Isabel pressed her thighs together.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, unable to hold back a baffled laugh. “You’re trying to revise my fantasy list? Why don’t you just go make one of your own?”

“Because yours is already almost perfect. It just needs a few minor adjustments.”

“And you’re the man to make them for me?” She posed it as a question, but she already knew the answer.

“Babe, I’m the perfect man for your fantasy list.”

Even though her body agreed with him, Isabel struggled to grab control of her reactions and the conversation. “What an ego. Does that work for you often?”

“I’ve been called an expert by more than one lady,” he offered. Despite the humor dancing in his eyes, Isabel didn’t think he was teasing her.

“I’ll just bet you have.”

“I’d be happy to show you,” he promised, his breath warming her temple. “We can work our way up to the Harley ride.”

The wispy tendril of desire unfurled, low in her belly. Isabel realized this was a man who could bring her to orgasm with his voice alone. She’d bet he could do it without even using dirty words.

“I’ll have to pass,” she said faintly.

Dante let her pull away without protest. But the laser-sharp look in his eyes told her he was likely aware of her every fear and knew exactly which moves would alleviate the apprehension. And which would shift it over that blurry line into the realm of dark, edgy sexual craving.

She hurried from the room before she begged him to do just that.

DANTE SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY as he watched Isabel walk away. Damned if she didn’t have a sweet sway to her hips in another one of those silky skirts. After tasting her, feeling the luscious pressure of her lips under his, all he could think of was holding those hips as she rode him. Dante wanted to chase her down and haul her back into his arms.

He could still taste her, sweet as a peach, on his tongue. The feel of her small body against him, her flowery scent filled his senses. God, she’d turned him on.

Down, boy. It wasn’t gonna happen. As interested as she might be—and he’d tasted plenty of interest as her tongue had wrapped around his—she was holding back. He didn’t know why, but she obviously didn’t want to give in to the attraction.

Maybe because he’d seen her list? She really didn’t seem embarrassed, but who knew with women? All he knew for sure was that Isabel obviously liked control. And Dante was the kind of man who thrived on making women lose control.

And it was only fair. That list of hers had kept him awake half the night, imagining her, them, living out each of those fantasies. Dante shifted, his jeans still uncomfortably tight.

He battled down the frustration. Tasting heaven, then being told he couldn’t have more just didn’t sit well. It was all he could do not to go after her and see if he couldn’t seduce her into changing her mind.