he murmured. “Stay and have a drink with me. Just one drink.”
He thought she’d refuse, but then she looked him squarely in the eyes and waited for what felt like a long moment. Neither of them said a word; they simply stared as if sizing each other up. And then she released a tightly held breath and resumed her spot next to him. She wasn’t going to admit who she was, Pete realized. Prudence was going to go along with her little game, as long as he did. As far as she was concerned, they were complete strangers.
Pete had played more than his share of games with women, both in bed and out. Head games or bed games, he’d become quite adept at both. Then why did he feel so clueless now? Maybe because Nora Pierce didn’t seem to be the type to engage in risky flirtations with strange men. But then, he wasn’t a stranger, was he. Maybe he was just an available patsy, an unsuspecting dope who was about to get dumped, all for a tale that could be told over the office water cooler. This could all be payback for the black eye.
Pete cursed silently and raked his hand through his hair. Well, two could play at her little game. As long as it meant he could spend a few more minutes with her, he’d just play along. He motioned the bartender over. “Champagne,” he said. “Your best.”
Nora sent him a questioning look. “Champagne?”
“I’m having a drink with the most beautiful woman in this place. I think champagne is in order, don’t you?”
Her gaze fixed on her wrist where his fingers still rested. “There are a lot of beautiful women in this place,” she said, pulling away.
Pete glanced around. “Yeah, I guess there are.” The bartender popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and poured them both a glass. Pete picked up a flute and handed it to Nora. “But none more beautiful than you.”
That brought a reluctant smile, as she took a sip of her champagne. “With a line like that line, maybe I should invest in champagne futures.”
“Naw,” Pete teased. “There wouldn’t be much money in it. I gave up women a few months back.”
She gave him a suspicious look, leveled at him over the rim or the champagne flute. “Then why are you bothering me?”
He reached out and ran a finger slowly down her bare arm. Maybe this little game wasn’t so bad. At least it gave him free rein to touch her whenever he felt the urge. “Believe me, you’re not a bother. In fact, you’re the first woman in nearly a year who has made me regret my decision.”
This time she laughed out loud, tipping her head back and letting loose with a musical giggle as bright as the bubbles that sparkled in her glass. In earlier days, he might have been insulted. But her delight captivated him, and he laughed along with her. Pete set his glass down, then braced his feet on her bar stool, his knees on either side of hers, trapping her in front of him.
Her giggle died in her throat as he stared into her eyes. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Nora Pierce. Not at that moment, not ever. But he knew he’d need to proceed cautiously, because behind the wide eyes and flushed features was a lady playing a dangerous game.
Gently, deliberately, he wove his fingers through hers, then pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “So, why don’t we start with introductions?” he murmured, his words warm against her skin. “My name’s Beckett. Pete Beckett. What’s yours?”
He glanced up at her and sent her a charming grin. The game had begun, and he’d just upped the ante.
NORA TOOK A LONG GULP of her champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose and going right to her head. But no matter how muddled her mind became, one thought screamed from within. Run away, run as fast and as far as you can from this man whose mouth is teasing at the inside of your wrist, whose words have the capacity to render you defenseless—this man who’s demanded to know your name.
Her big night out was supposed to be a simple experiment, a chance to dip her toe into the dating pool without risk of being swept away by the tide. But sitting here next to Pete, she felt as if the water were rushing up around her neck and the currents were threatening to pull her under. She wanted to blurt her name out to the entire bar—Nora Pierce or Prudence Trueheart, what did it matter? This little charade had to end!
But something held her back, a curiosity that needed to be satisfied, an undeniable magnetism that made all common sense vanish. Why not just see where the evening might lead, alter the experiment just a bit? She wasn’t doing too badly. Except for her impromptu grammar lesson, she’d managed to hold her own in conversation without sounding too uptight.
And it felt so good to stand in someone else’s four-inch spike heels, to become the kind of woman she’d never been—sexy, provocative, irresistible. It wasn’t that hard to step outside herself. Besides, she could walk away at any time, couldn’t she? Nora stifled a long sigh. Perhaps that was easier said than done.
It wasn’t the mental aspect of her charade that was so difficult, but the physical reactions she was having to endure. The shock of Pete Beckett turning up beside her had temporarily stolen the breath from her lungs. And then he’d touched her, and her heart had begun to somersault in her chest, beating a crazy rhythm. Every thought in her head became fixed on the mesmerizing way his fingers skimmed over her skin and warmed her blood. At once afraid and exhilarated, she had tried to keep one foot in reality, but she kept slipping into a realm that until now had been pure fantasy.
Why hadn’t he recognized her? Could her disguise be that good? Earlier in the day they’d spoken, come face to face in her office. Surely she couldn’t be that forgettable, could she? Nora brushed aside the notion. He’d had a few too many beers, that was it. Or maybe he hadn’t yet noticed the faint bruise below her eye, barely concealed by her makeup. Or perhaps the thought of Prudence Trueheart hanging out in a sports bar, wearing a black wig and “seduce me” shoes, was inconceivable.
Whatever the cause, she didn’t want these wonderful and alarming sensations to end. A secret thrill shot through her, and she grew more determined to take her pleasure where she could find it—in the suggestive way he looked at her, in her shameless reaction.
“Well?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to tell me? Or do you want me to guess?”
Nora knew the proper etiquette for introductions at any occasion—except when trying to preserve one’s anonymity beneath a sexy disguise while drinking champagne with a handsome co-worker at a bar. A shiver ran up her arm and a moan slipped from her throat. A handsome co-worker who was intent on sucking her fingertips! That one would surely befuddle even Emily Post.
One bit of advice did come to mind. When a lady finds herself in an uncomfortable situation, said lady can always make a polite retreat to the ladies’ room to regroup. She reached for her purse, reluctantly tugging her trembling fingers away and forcing a smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Beckett. But I should go. My friend is probably waiting.”
“Your friend can wait. Why don’t you want to tell me your name?” he asked, his smile seductive, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “Are you married?”
Nora gasped and brushed his hand away. How dare he believe she’d engage in an extramarital flirtation. She’d been brought up better than that! “Of course not,” she said, keeping anger from her voice.
His brow arched teasingly. “Engaged?”
She shook her head.
“Involved?”
