Double Dare (12 page)

When Lou shook her head, Same surprised her
by dragging her plate over in front of him. Then surprised her even
further by using her fork. How utterly intimate, she though as a
flush of pleasure warmed her. They’d gone from not being able to
share an evening meal to appropriating utensils? Sam’s gaze met
hers as his sinful mouth closed around the fork.

“
Something wrong?” he asked,
completely oblivious to the fact that he’d done something so…so
couplelike.

With a secret grin, Lou shook her head. “Not
at all.” She gestured to the plate. “Do you like it?”

Sam swallowed, then looked about for
something to drink.

He spied hers.

Lips trembling, Lou accommodatingly slid her
glass across the table.

Sam smiled his thanks and lifted the drink to
his lips. “It’s great.”

Lou started to speak, but stopped when her
chocolate Volcano was placed before her. Mounds of ooey-gooey
chocolate sauce covered a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream and a
sinfully rich-looking brownie. Sam’s eyes lit up and pause
midbite.

“
That looks good,” he
commented lightly.

“
It certainly does,” Lou
agreed, staring at the confection as though she’d never seen
chocolate before.

From the look on his face, neither had
Sam.

She imagined those Fudgy-Nutty cakes she’d
watched him consume throughout this adventure paled in comparison
to this particular morsel.

Lou took up her spoon and enthusiastically
began to eat her dessert. My word, this had to be the best dessert
she’d ever eaten in her life! The combination of flavors and
textures were wonderful, simply hedonistic. She groaned in
pleasure, and at that particular moment, she happened to glance at
Sam.

His shrimp sat, untouched.

Oh, for pity’s sake, she thought with a spurt
of irritation. Obviously all these years he’d forgone dinners with
a female had affected him, Lou concluded, because it appears Sam
had no notion of proper table etiquette. She’d been happy for him
to have the shrimp. Hell, she’d been finished with it. But this
chocolate orgasm was something else entirely—Lou wanted it all for
herself.

But…that would be stingy, so Lou reluctantly
moved her bowl to the middle of the table. “Grab a spoon and try a
bite,” she told him grudgingly.

Sam didn’t even pretend to hesitate. “Wow,”
he mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate. “This is good.”

Yes, indeed, Lou silently concurred as she
watched Sam bogart the rest of her dessert.

So. He’d come down here to eat dinner with
her—and had eaten her dinner and dessert instead. To top it off,
she wouldn’t even be getting a little kiss for her trouble.

Lou had firsthand knowledge of how great Sam
tasted without the benefit of chocolate and literally shuddered
when she imagined what he would taste like now. Dark and sinful,
sweet and hot. She softened. She tensed. She craved.

Yeah. Time to get drunk.

“
I’m heading to the bar,”
Lou told Sam as he polished off the last crumb in her
bowl. 

Sam started. “The bar?” Then he smiled a
wicked smile she felt all the way to her toes. “Oh, that’s right.
You’ve got to get drunk. Another item on your list, right?”

Lou grinned, in spite of herself.
“Right.”

“
What are you going to
drink?”

“
I—” Lou frowned
thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’ve never had anything to drink,
other than an occasional glass of champagne at a business
function.”

Looking sated and relaxed, Sam leaned back
against the booth. “Well, you’ll need to pick your poison
carefully.” 

Intrigued, Lou paused. “Oh. And why is
that?”

“
It depends. Do you want to
get a little buzz before you get completely hammered? Or do you
want to skip the preliminaries and hit the hard stuff?”
“Can’t I just hit a happy medium?” Lou asked, perplexed.

“
Yeah.” He winced. “But it’s
tricky.”

It was alcohol, for pity’s sake. How hard
could it be? She’d just imbibe too much and that’d be the end of
it. Then an idea occurred to her. “Then perhaps you should help
me.”

Sam winced and hesitantly shook his head. “I
don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“
Fine,” Lou chirped. “I’m
sure I can find someone to help me get upstairs when I’m finished.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard horror stories about women who were
accosted in bars, but I’m sure I have nothing to worry
about—”

“
Lou—”

“—
or, heaven forbid—” She
shuddered dramatically. “—both. But don’t worry about—”

“
Lou!” Sam barked, loud
enough to draw the attention of several onlookers. “Okay,” he
relented predictably. “I’ll go.”

Lou grinned, immensely pleased with herself.
“Thank you, Sam. And they said chivalry was dead.”

Sam snorted. “I’m helping
you get drunk. I don’t think chivalrous is the right word. The word
you’re looking for is
stupid.
”

“
I think that I want a
slushy drink like that woman over the is drinking,” Lou told Sam as
she slid her perfect derriere onto the bar stool.

Sam marveled at his stupidity. He’d actually
broken his no-dinner rule for Lou and now he’d also agreed to help
her get intoxicated. Inwardly, Sam snorted. She’d outmaneuvered him
well with this one. In good conscience, Sam couldn’t have left her
alone in the bar. She’d known that before she’d ever started the
I-could-get-raped-and-murdered soliloquy.

Still, he had to wonder what had come over
him. What had made him abandon years of good business practices
just to hang out with one kooky little snack-cake heiress? It
didn’t make sense.

And yet, it didn’t feel wrong.

Being with Lou felt strangely…right.

True, he was the calm to her storm; they
couldn’t be any more different. They were from different worlds,
different backgrounds. He imagined her yearly allowance had been
more than his mother made waitressing at two jobs. Hell, while he’d
been drinking Brand X, Lou had been weaned on Perrier.

He could make case of all those things…if Lou
acted anything at all like her debutante counterparts.

But she didn’t.

In fact, there didn’t appear to be a more
down-to-earth, genuine person. There wasn’t a single pretentious
bone in her gorgeous body.

Sam cast a glance at Lou as he settled onto a
stool besides her and a curious emotion squeezed his heart. She’d
left her hair down this evening, the way he liked it. The curls
cascaded around her face and settled like a golden mantle around
her slender shoulders. She looked sweet and wild and more than a
little reckless.

But mostly, she looked sexy.

Geez, when she’d been eating that damned
brownie, Sam had almost come unglued. She had almost shuddered in
ecstasy, her mouth softened and curved just so. Just the way he
imagined she’d look in the throes of passion. She’d been so
enraptured, Sam had gotten jealous of a damned dessert.

He knew Lou had been a
little perturbed about sharing her treat with him—especially since
he’d polished it off pretty quickly—but it had been an act of
self-preservation. No way in hell he could have watched her moan
and groan over the rest of that friggin’ dessert—his groin
tightened at the thought—not without him having
her
for dessert.

What had she said? A slushy drink? Oh, no.
That wouldn’t suffice. He’d definitely need something hard to pull
this off. He’d make this a streamlined outing. In, drink hard
liquor, out. And that would be the end of it.

Apparently Lou had other ideas, because
before he could formulate a sentence, she’d already snagged the
attention of the bartender.

“
I wanna get drunk,” Lou
told him matter-of-factly. “But I’m not much of a drinker. What do
you suggest?”

“
I thought you wanted my
help,” Sam told her from the side of his mouth, unreasonably
agitated.

Lou leaned over to whisper in his ear, and
her sweet breath fanned against his cheek, sending a bold of lust
straight to his groin. Her scent swirled about him, torturing him a
little more. “Hey, this guy knows what he's doing,” she hissed.
“You’re the one who said this could be tricky. I’m seeking expert
advice.”

Lou straightened and smiled at the bartender.
“Any suggestions?” she asked again.

The tall, dark-skinned man returned her grin,
and though he looked innocent enough, Sam instantly hated him.
According to the badge pinned to what even Sam could appreciate as
a muscular chest, his name was Ricardo.

“
Sure,
querida,
I can make a suggestion,”
Ricardo told her slyly. “For you, I can make something
special.”

Lou lashes batted against her pinkened cheeks
at the Spanish endearment. Sam rolled his eyes and smothered a
snort. Lou didn’t blush, at least not easily

She leaned over against Sam. “Did you hear
that? He’s going to make something special for me.”

Yeah, he’d heard. Sam gritted his teeth until
he feared they’d crack. What? Was he invisible?

He wouldn’t be for long.

“
While you’re at it, make
something special for me, too” Sam told the smooth bartender, an
edge to his voice that made the man look up and give Sam a
considering look.

“
Sure, amigo.” Ricardo moved
efficiently behind the bar, mixing a couple of drinks in shooter
glasses. Sam watched as he poured rum, amaretto and pineapple juice
into the low glasses, then slid them across the bar with a
flourish.

“
It’s a shooter,” Sam told
Lou, who gazed at the tumbler with equal parts anticipation and
reticence. “That means you drink it fast.”

“
I do?”

“
Yeah, and it looks good. Go
ahead,” he encouraged.

“
Wh-what is it?” she asked
Ricardo.

“
A Fuzzy Monkey.”

Lou frowned comically. “A What?”

“
A Fuzzy Monkey.” The
bartender chuckled. Trust me,
querida
, you’ll like it.”

To Sam’s consternation, Lou seemed bolstered
by the endearment. She squared her delicate shoulders, took up the
glass and tossed it back like a sailor on leave. Instantly a smile
claimed her lips, and excitement glittered in her baby blue eyes.
“That was good! Can I have another?”

Sam mentally winced, then tossed back his own
drink and ordered another as well. From the looks of things, he’d
need it.

Thirty minutes later, with the aid of a few
more shooters, Sam had mellowed considerably.

Lou had simply melted.

After the second drink, she’d begun to giggle
a little. Not so much to be annoying, like most women. Just enough
to make Sam respond to the infectious laughter.

After the third, she claimed she couldn’t
feel her teeth. She’d licked her lips in drunken fascination,
making lap after lap with her luscious tongue until Sam though he’d
surely explode.

After the fourth, she’d begun to slip off her
stool. Leaning into him, touching him, inadvertently pressing her
plump breasts against him arm. Just enough to drive him mad with
want, to make his jaw hurt from clenching it to keep his hands off
her.

After the fifth, she’d begun to come on to
him.

At that point, he cut her off.

Sam wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t ward off
her advances, but just buzzed enough not to want to. Hell, who was
he kidding? He never wanted to. But his insane attraction to Lou,
combined with the alcohol coursing through his blood wreaking havoc
with his self-control, could be a potentially disastrous
combination.

“
You’re drunk, Lou,” Sam
told her. “Let’s go.”

“
I don’t wanna,” she
declared stubbornly, like a petulant child who’d had her favorite
toy snatched away.

“
Too bad. You can mark it
off your list. I mean it, Lou. I’m leaving.”

Lou’s brow furrowed as she considered her
options. She gave Sam a dark look, then it turned a little
calculating. His body went on red alert. He knew that look, and
nothing good could come of it. Well, actually it would be good, Sam
thought as he imagined himself between Lou’s creamy thighs. He
hardened to the point of pain.

But it couldn’t happen.

It
could not
happen. Sam repeated, and
wondered if he’d convinced himself of that.

“
You’re right,” Lou told him
with a dramatic sigh. “Let’s go to bed.”

Sam tensed. “I’ll walk you to your room and
you can go to bed.”

“
Yeah. That’s what I meant.”
Lou slid off her stool and her knees buckled beneath her weight.
Sam grabbed her and pulled her limp body against his. Torture, he
thought. Pure torture. “Ooooh, my legs feel funny.” She frowned,
staring down at the offending limbs. “Like Jell-O.”

Sam bit back a groan. “Come on. I’ll help
you.”

A breathy sigh slipped past Lou’s lips.
“Thank you, Sam.”

Aw, hell. She was killing him. “You’re
welcome.”

Sam wrapped his arm around her tiny waist and
tugged her more firmly against him, then walked Lou to her room.
Each step proved to be a lesson in restraint. Sam wanted to mold
his hands to her rounded hips, slide them over the sensual curve of
her delightful backside. He wanted to thread his fingers through
her hair.

But more than anything, he wanted to kiss
her. To taste the soft of her neck, to slide his tongue into her
mouth and feel her sigh shudder through him.