you may be the most clueless male on the planet. If I didn’t think it would upset Jordan, I’d take you outside right now and rip you a new one.”
Mitch smiled. This was the Hughes he knew how to deal with. “You and what squadron?”
The bride and groom approached and Hughes gave McCabe a menacing glare before turning to accept Jordan’s hug.
Jackson slapped him on the back and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. “McCabe, you dog. Your thirty days start today, buddy,” Jackson announced.
Mitch stiffened. “What?”
“Remember last year you lost the bet and had to play monk for a month? You couldn’t believe I was thinking of settling down with Jordan. And you once said if I ever got married you’d do without for another month.” Jackson lifted one brow.
“Now, wait a minute.” Mitch shook his head. Dread hit him low in the gut. “That wasn’t technically a bet.”
Jackson’s mouth crept up in a slow grin. “So, you don’t stand by your word.”
“Of course I do!” Mitch’s insides chilled as the legitimacy of Jackson’s challenge settled over him like a bad case of the flu. He’d forgotten he made that promise to his buddy. Celibate for another thirty days? Last time he’d been somewhat prepared. Not because he was sure Jordan would give in and sleep with Jackson, but mostly because Mitch hadn’t minded going without if that meant his buddy had a good time with the beautiful blonde. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel, scowling at the ground. One glance at Hughes showed her smirking. The angry, hell-bent glint in her eye gave him the willies.
Jackson clapped him on the shoulder, bringing Mitch’s attention back to the departing couple just as Jackson turned to his smiling bride and gave her a deep, promising kiss. The jerk did it just to rub in what Mitch would be missing.
Then, with one last wave, the newlyweds headed outside to their waiting limo. At the door, Jordan glanced over her shoulder and tossed her bouquet.
Mitch felt a small measure of satisfaction when the cluster of flowers slapped Hughes in the face and landed in her hands before she could duck for cover. “Damn it,” she mumbled.
He chuckled. “Jordan should have been a bombardier with that kind of aim.”
Hughes turned on him, her eyes blazing like laser-guided missiles. “You better get a wrist brace, McCabe.” She gave him a surprisingly wicked smile. “’Cause for the next thirty days, your right hand’s gonna be your best buddy.” She marched out the door.
Geez, what had he ever done to her?
2
NOT LIKE A woman? Alex fumed. That was the third time McCabe had accused her of not being a woman. They were fighting words Alex could ignore no longer.
Of course, she’d strived her entire career to be treated equally. To not be thought of as a weak female. But still, it wasn’t as if she was some genderless life-form. She was a woman.
And now that McCabe had gotten himself celibate again, this was the perfect time to show him just how true that was.
Within seven days, she’d formulated a plan and put it into action. Once Jordan returned from her Bahamas honeymoon, Alex had called to beg her help with a makeover. And Jordan hadn’t hesitated when Alex explained her mission. In fact, she’d heard Jordan squeal before she shouted a resounding yes!
But now, after spending almost four hours being peeled, plucked and processed at a salon, and another three shopping at Jordan’s favorite department store, Alex was rethinking her need to teach McCabe a lesson. “How do women do this all the time?” she whined as she tried to balance in the four-inch stilettos. “I’d rather shovel manure from my parents’ stables.”
“Hey, do you want to make Casanova McCabe pay, or don’t you?”
“You’re right.” Alex squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. “Suck it up, Hughes,” she mumbled to herself.
All she had to do was picture the look of complete dismissal on Mitch’s face when he’d said she wasn’t like a real woman. If she had to break both her ankles trying to walk in these torture devices, she was going to make Captain Mitchell McCabe fully aware that she was a woman. A real, live, desirable female. And then she’d make him sorry he’d been born.
Jordan smiled and waved a hand. “I’m having fun. And you gotta admit the results are worth it.” She turned Alex toward the full-length mirror in the shoe section of the department store. “Just look how the high heels and pointed toes elongate your legs.”
Alex frowned at her poor feet jammed into the sheer red chiffon. She hadn’t realized this famous shoe designer was a disciple of the Marquis de Sade. “Yeah, my legs will look real long sticking up in the air after I fall flat on my ass trying to walk in these things.”
“Ain’t gonna happen, girl.” Jordan nudged her shoulder. “You just need practice. One foot in front of the other, heel to toe…”
Grumbling under her breath, Alex wobbled away, the muscles in her ankles screaming for mercy.
“Sway your hips just a little—no, not that much.”
Alex adjusted her sway. This was ridiculous. She felt like a moron.
“Head up, don’t watch your feet.”
What? How could she make sure she didn’t trip if she couldn’t watch her feet?
“Good, now turn—slowly. Put one hand on your hip.”
She was kidding, right? Did women really go through all this just to attract a man? She stuck a fist on her hip.
“Now come back toward me and watch yourself in the mirror. See how the new, subtle highlights in your hair soften your complexion and the new cut accentuates your cheekbones?”
Whatever. If Jordan said so. Alex smiled and nodded when Jordan asked her to try the walk again. And again. If she could survive The Spa Dragon, she could live through anything. Even—God help her—shopping. The facial had been kind of nice until the Dragon had told Alex her skin was “appallingly dry” and asked about her skin care regime.
Regime? Um…soap. Water.
The Dragon had looked as if she wanted to call security and have Alex thrown out until she’d agreed to buy the entire package of cleansers, exfoliators and moisturizers.
The pedicure and manicure had felt wonderful, but regulations forbade the bloodred nail polish that Jordan wanted her to get. The color would so clash with her combat boots and camo. She chuckled at the thought, lost her balance and teetered over, grabbing a stack of shoeboxes on her way down. An entire row of boxes and shoes came crashing on top of her as she landed hard on her butt.
Jordan rushed over. “Oh, my gosh, are you okay?”
“Nothing bruised but my pride.” She tried to get her feet under her to stand.
“No, no, Alex! Not like that. Knees together.”
“What?
