Forbidden Kisses (3:AM Kisses Book 9) (8 page)

“You’re welcome. I may be pretty sick, but you’re just flat-out rude.”

I fire my shot and hit the bullseye near the top.

She moans as if I’ve mortally wounded her. “Okay, you’ve proven your point”—she pulls another arrow from her sheath and repositions herself for her next shot—“you’re good.” She fires and lands her arrow in the target, dead on. “But I’m better.” She steps over, the sweet scent of her floral perfume dusts by in her wake. “Don’t you ever forget that.” Her eyes shine bright, a clear turquoise, and for a solid minute, I lose myself just taking in their glory.

“So, what gives?” She takes the bow from my hand and lands it back where it came from in the shade of the pine. “You come up here so I can kick your ass?”

“I came up here to let you know this.” I show her the frantic text my mother shot off this morning, and Scarlett lets out a dark laugh.

“Well, well, my future brother, my very false Romeo, it looks like it’s time we take the next step in our non-existent relationship.”

“What’s that?”

“We’re going on our first, and hopefully, last double date. Once they see us pawing all over one another, they’ll want to vomit in their salad. Any fantasy about becoming husband and wife will long have dissipated before they ever bring out dessert. There’s no way my father is going to want me falling madly in love with my new stepbrother.” A smile twitches on her lips. “And, trust me, a socialite like your mother? She’d rather hang herself than see us mopping up each other’s faces with our tongues.”

“Tongues, huh?” Now it’s me twitching a smile.

Scarlett takes a step in, that look of discontent that can slit my throat open is right back, and this time I do smile. After all, this cutthroat version is the one I know and love.

“Calm down, Agent Orange. No use in getting yourself all worked up right now. You’ll get plenty worked up after I kiss you.” My lids hood a moment. “And, believe me, I do know how to use my tongue.”

“
Ugh
! You can wipe that smirk off your face, Toberman. This isn’t the football field, and I’m not some entranced cheerleader ready and willing to squat over your lap on command. This is
my
turf, and once this little game our parents are playing disbands, I don’t want to ever see your face again.”

She gathers her things in a huff and takes off, leaving me in a plume of dust in her wake.

I’m pretty sure it’s not me she’s pissed at, but I get it. She’s transferring the pain to the closest person she can, and right now, that person is me. Scarlett may not want to see my face when this is through, but I’m not sure I feel the same. I’m hoping when the time is right she won’t either.

I
’m not terribly
big on the dating scene, thus my honorable yet virginal status. And dating Rex Toberman?
Pfft
… I’d rather shoot arrows into my feet all day long than subject myself to that brand of torment, but seeing that my father is about to make the biggest mistake of his life, I’m willing to take one for the entire Kent team. Speaking of team, I’m sure once I’m through with “Sexy Rexy” for the evening, he’ll come home to find an entire harem of ponytailed cheerleaders queued up at the foot of his bed. I can hear them now,
Give me a D. Give me an I. Give me a C and K! What does it spell? Rex Toberman!

“Look at you!” Daisy steps back to admire me in our tiny two-man dorm that can hardly afford to house us. Even with our twin beds jammed against the walls, two small desks, and a television, there’s hardly room to walk past each other on the way to the restroom. I’ve managed to squeeze a hotplate and a microwave in the corner, although I’ve exhausted all of my enthusiasm for those two appliances. The dorms are far more accommodating on every other floor, which would explain the fact that once finals were through, most every room on this level quickly vacated. In a few short weeks, ironically at the same time my father is fated to legally bind himself to Lynette Toberman until death do they part—not that I’m buying into that matrimonial fantasy after what my parents went through—an entire new slew of unsuspecting freshmen will populate the floor once again.

“I do look amazing, don’t I?” I tease, doing a little twirl. I’ve donned my little black dress, requisite for seduction and yet classy enough for dinner with my father and his insignificant other. A pair of gold heels is pressed to my feet, adding that metallic splash all the fashion magazines are touting as the indispensable accessory. Classy enough to qualify as timeless, and, yet, trashy enough to qualify as FMs. Every girl in the Western Hemisphere has the right to own a decent pair of
Fuck Me’s
—especially should the need arise to parade around town with her stepbrother. Already the four-inch lift is killing my arches, but I’m willing to suffer through a little bone disfigurement if it means getting my father’s neck off the chopping block or altar as it were.

“So, where are you headed?” Daisy pulls her wild curls back into a ponytail and grabs her gym bag—a clear signal
she’s
headed to Stilettos for her shift. Daisy just started dancing at the club a few months back, and already she’s made enough to lease her very first car. It’s nothing too flashy but gets her from point A to point B without having to rely on public transit or me. Not that I ever minded helping her out so long as it didn’t involve the interstate.

“We’re dining at The White Orchid. It’s that new Asian fusion restaurant in downtown Jepson. I’ve been dying to try it out, so this works perfectly. Hey, you want me to drop you off at the club, and then I’ll swing by tonight to pick you up? I’ll bring Piper and Cassidy, and we can make a night of it. We can even hang out at the Black Bear after.”

“No can do.” She spritzes herself with her perfume from head to toe, effectively gassing up the room in a cloud of floral vapors. “I’m actually pulling a double, so I’ll be dancing in the late show as well.”

“That means you won’t be back until after one in the morning.”

“I
know
. It’s perfect.” She dabs some gloss on her lips and blows herself a kiss in the mirror. “As soon as school starts up, I’ll be stuck with my old schedule, but this way I’m making almost three times as much as I usually do because the late night customers are much better tippers.”

“That’s because they’re much better drinkers. They’re
tipsy
tippers.” I wrinkle my nose without meaning to. Daisy knows I’m not crazy about the fact she’s strutting her stuff in front of innumerous inebriated strangers, but I also know it’s something she’s completely comfortable with. She’s not nude, but still, there’s an awful lot of skin movin’ and groovin’ when she’s out on that stage. A thought comes to me. “Have you ever thought about what might happen if, you know, Mr. Right walks into the club one night?”

I can feel my face heating as soon as I ask the question. For whatever reason, a small part of me is forever trying to rescue Daisy from that carnal club. I would never say it out loud, but it’s a bad idea from start to finish.

“Well”—Daisy checks her phone before blowing out a heavy breath—“if Mr. Right is going to be as judgmental as you are, then I’m not interested in his opinion.” The smile fades from her face.

“Okay.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.” Everything in me softens to her. Daisy is my best friend, and the last person on the planet I want to make feel bad in any way. “You’re right. I’ve been nothing but a judgmental bitch this entire time. I just wish I could help.”

“You’re not a bitch.” She pinches my chin, looking up at me with those thick lashes she’s been gluing on for the last half hour. “Okay, you can be sort of a bitch.” We share a quick laugh. “But the whole point is, I don’t want anybody’s help. I’m perfectly capable of powering through this thing called life all by my lonesome. And don’t worry”—she adjusts my neckline with a seamless tug—“this is just temporary. I get what you’re saying. If I did have a man in my life, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want me doing cartwheels in my G-string while other men whistle with approval. I promise, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” Her crystalline blue eyes water on cue. “But I’m not hunting for him right now. After law school, when I catch my breath maybe, but, until then it’s you, me, and this God forsaken foxhole we’re stuck in until graduation.”

My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s a text from Rex.
Downstairs.

“Sounds good to me.” I pull her in, and we share a quick embrace. “Stay sane. And if you need me, don’t hesitate to call! I have a hot date with my brother, and I don’t want to be late!” I laugh all the way down to his truck.

Rex sits with his elbow perched against the frame of his window. His lids are hooded; his dark hair is slicked back, glossy and thick, still damp from the shower, and my stomach clenches with heat. He’s donned a fitted black suit that has every girl in a mile radius craning her neck just to get a look. Holy hell. And that blue silk tie? Rex Toberman is dangerous tonight.

My heart begins to race, drumming hard and fast all the way up to my throat, and suddenly, the thought of holding his hand, touching him in any inappropriate way,
kissing
him makes me feel as if I’m about to faint.

* * *

W
e drive
in silence all the long way to Jepson, making that thirty-minute drive feel like thirty years. Every now and again, I sneak a glance his way. I’ll admit, Rex Toberman is looking mighty fine in just about every way tonight, but there’s something about that suit that disintegrated my panties the second I saw it. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting him to go all-out in the fashion arena tonight, but when I asked my father if I could bring my new boyfriend to meet him for the very first time, he insisted only the finest, and predictably most formal restaurant in Jepson would do. I can just imagine the shock on his face when he sees me with his soon-to-be stepson—walking hand-in-hand no less! My father will drop right to the floor. His face will bleach out of all color, and both he and Lynette will need a stiff drink to recuperate. At least that’s my dream scenario. It could go far better than I imagine, and Lynette will simply drop dead. Although, I shrink in my seat a little, I feel like an ass getting any sort of glee at the thought of Rex’s mother biting the big one.

We pull into the parking lot, and every last cell in my body comes alive. My heart makes the leap from my throat to my ears, and my entire body pounds, sweating with a biting heat, shaking at the prospect of what’s to come. You’d think I were headed to the electric chair, and just knowing that a very public display of affection with Rex Toberman is about to commence, I’d say it’s about the equivalent.

Rex comes around, seemingly cool as cucumber. Of course, he’s cool as a cocky cucumber. He’s used to molesting the hell out of his dates on a nightly basis. Tonight isn’t merely an exercise in method acting. It’s perpetuating a serial habit. I try to recall the last time I ran my hands over the male form and come up empty. God, first base is about as far as I’ve ever gotten, and that letdown of a tongue twister was with Duncan. I’ve dated a few guys since, but those dates amounted to less than dinner and a movie.

My fingers shake as I reach for his, and instead, I flatten my sweaty palms over my thighs.

Shit!

My entire body gyrates with nerves, and right about now, I want nothing more than a toilet to sit on. Out of all the biological reactions Rex Toberman has induced in girls, I bet he’d be surprised to learn he’s actually summoned the power to loosen my bowels. Actually, my overactive nerves harnessed that power long ago. If I’m not mistaken, it correlates right around the time I made my first freeway blunder.

“We’ll go in holding hands,” I stammer. The early evening sun lands in my eyes, turning him briefly into a tangerine shadow.

“Sounds good, sweetheart.” For whatever reason, the sarcastic inflection in his voice puts me at ease. Rex takes up my hand and carefully interlaces our fingers, calm, cool, and irritatingly collected.

Why do I have to be a shivering bundle of nerves in this equation? Why can’t I be indifferent about the fact our flesh just experienced a Chernobyl-worthy meltdown upon impact?

That’s it. I’m taking the sexual bull by the horns. Rex Toberman and his tailor made Italian zoot suit are mine. Bowels be damned. I’m turning up the heat, and if my father and Lynette don’t like the Sexy Rexy show, I suggest they do more than look away, because this risqué review isn’t leaving town until we’ve severed the knot they’re trying to form.

I leap toward the entrance, and Rex gently reels me back. “Hey”—there’s a softness in his voice that I haven’t heard before as his eyes tender to mine—“it’s going to work out.” He gives my hand a slight squeeze, and my stomach pinches in tandem.

I swallow hard, trying to come up with the right snide remark, and nary a sarcastic word is willing to travel up my throat so I simply nod like a doltish child.

Rex leads the way, holding open the door for me like a perfect gentleman. It’s cool inside, a little too cool, quickly turning my sweat-riddled body into a shivering cube of ice.

“There they are,” he whispers hot over my temple. The heat emanates from his chest to mine, and my entire body warms. The waitress comes over. “We’re with Bradley Kent.” He says my father’s name so kind and polite, something about the civility of it all melts me.

We follow the waitress through the crowded establishment, thick with its tangy, spiced scents, the dark atmosphere with cobalt candles flickering in the heart of every table. It’s a perfectly romantic setting. A perfectly twisted setting for this day in my life in which I had never even considered a possibility, the day in which I publicly declare a sexual affinity for my quasi-brother. Not Lawson, of course, thankfully not Lawson because he happens to be the real deal. Not that I would even consider this lunacy with my baby brother. That would be beyond disgusting, and those are the exact same feelings I’m hoping to evoke in Lynette and my father. They should be
fuming
, nauseous, and, of course, rudely awakened to the fact a legal union of any type should never happen between the two of them.

Rex leans in, tucking his lips close to my ear. “It’s go time,” he whispers hot against my neck, and an electric shiver runs through me.

Daddy sits whispering something to Lynette, and she guffaws as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. It’s a fake laugh, of course. A part of me is convinced she’s taking my father for a ride, and I don’t mean of the carnal variety. Her copper sequin top glitters in this dim light, and it looks as if she’s breaking apart at the molecular level.

Daddy spots us and rises. “Batter Bits!” He embraces me, effectively breaking any hold I had on Rex’s hand. He pulls away, and the smile plastered to his face morphs into curiosity. “Son, is that you?” He socks Rex on the arm, and they hug it out man-style.

Lynette opens her arms wide. “Darling, you look magnificent! Where is this boy you’re dating?” She looks behind me for a moment before looking to her son. “Are you bringing a date as well?” She shakes her head, clearly stymied by the fact we’ve opted to show up seemingly stag.

The four of us take our seats with both Rex and me scooting our chairs closer together. For all the touching, loving, squeezing we plan on doing, we’ll have to close the distance as much as humanly possible. Lynette scoots in close to my father, creating a dizzying effect with her ensemble. Note to self: never wear sequins to a dimly lit establishment lest you run the risk of disorienting the rest of your party. Hey, maybe that was the point?

“Actually”—I clear my throat, scooting my seat just a touch closer to the man of the hour—“I did bring a date.” I lay my hand over the table, and Rex once again interlaces our fingers, reigning over me with his cheesy smile. “Mom”—I look to Lynette as I try out the newly minted moniker—“I hope you don’t mind me calling you that. I mean, once you and Daddy marry, that’s what you’ll be to me.” I swallow hard. Definitely not the direction I hoped we’d swing in.