New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess (4 page)

No, not quite. She practically vibrated with life. Her hair, the shimmering color of a fawn's coat, shone beneath the sparkling lights. Her skin glowed. There was just something about her, something that drew him, and it bewildered him because he didn't want to feel this way.

Around them, people were dancing, swirling and rocking to the licentious, happy music. Becca stood there, a frown growing on her previously excited face.

Oh perfect, now he'd stolen her fun. “Becca—” He reached for her, but she backed away.

“No, don't,” she said in an overly polite voice,
looking like an infuriated goddess. Her dress glimmered, her lipstick beckoned him, and he wanted, quite recklessly, to nibble it right off.

“Let me get this straight,” she said over the throbbing beat. “We're friends.”

“Yes,” he said with relief. One of them had to remember that.

“But earlier, when I touched you, you freaked.”

“Well actually,
freaked
is a pretty strong word.”

Her eyes glowed with some hidden emotion that made him nervous. “And you hate to dance, but for some reason you're here, on the same day and at the same time I am.” Her foot tapped to the beat of her impatience. “Would this be a coincidence?”

“Not exactly.”

A man bumped into her from behind. She smiled when he apologized, then became serious again when she turned back to Kent. “Okay, look. I know you think this is silly, this whole new me thing.” She glanced down at her dress and shook her head. “And it's really none of your business, but I turned thirty this year.”

Thirty had never looked so good. “You know I already know that. What different does that make?”

“
Lots
…I want more for myself. I want—”

“Adventure,” he said with her and she gave him a sad smile.

Again the music changed, deepened. Slowed. Helpless against the strange pull of it, and her, he stepped close, but she held up a hand to stop him. “You need to stop doing this,” she said quietly. “Stop following me, trying to save me from myself. It's going to give me the wrong idea.”

He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “But I can't get that ‘wrong idea' out of my head.” He opened his eyes again to discover he was talking to air.

B
ECCA STRODE DIRECTLY BACK
to her table. Dennis was nowhere in sight. Still, she grabbed her purse and whirled, prepared to walk home if necessary.

But she was blocked, by none other than the man who had the singular ability to drive her crazy with the conflicting emotions of need and frustration.

Kent took in the sight of her purse slung over her shoulder and winced, even as he reached for her, putting his big, warm hands on her arms.

Now was not a particularly great time for her to feel that shock of reaction to his touch, a shock that shook her to the core.

He, too, went completely still.

A waitress stopped next to them with a tray of drinks, but when neither of them moved, she sighed with irritation and moved on.

Becca's heart raced unnaturally. Kent was look
ing at her,
really
looking at her, with a slightly confused yet unmistakably desirous expression.

“More static?” she asked sarcastically.

“Or something,” he murmured, watching his hands on her with an intensity that made her want to melt boneless to the floor. “You look incredible.”

“It's the lighting, and friends don't touch, remember?”

He lifted his slumberous gaze to hers. “It's not the lighting,” he said, ignoring her reminder.

“The dress then.”

“Well, it is an incredible dress.”

“Thanks.” She backed up so that his hands fell away from her. Definitely time to move on. “I'll see you.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“Nowhere you need to worry about.”

He let out a breath. “You're on your next adventure already, aren't you? What is it?” he asked grimly, clearly bracing himself, which stirred her temper all the more.

“Obviously it bothers you greatly to even think about it, so why don't you just let it go? I'll see you tomorrow.”

She walked away from him, said her goodbyes to Dennis and exited into the cool night. And if
she felt a strange yearning for what might have been, she firmly squelched it.

Kent Wright was not for her.

But adventure number four was, and she could walk right to it. The night was lit by a blanket of stars that dazzled her mind and boosted her spirits. The air blew chilly around her bare legs, but she welcomed the delicious scent of spring.

The town was alive with both tourists and locals, as people hustled between the eclectic mix of historical and new hotels, shops and galleries.

One block later she stood outside the sushi bar and smiled. It might seem really silly to most, but she'd eaten bland food all her life. Simple, easy dishes she could take right out of her freezer and toss into her microwave.

Never, not once, had she had the nerve to challenge her palate, though she'd thought about it.

“Raw fish?
This
is your grand adventure?”

Sighing, even as a secret thrill raced through her, she turned to face Kent. “You've been following me. What a surprise.” Without waiting for an answer, she entered the small restaurant and was immediately seated.

When Kent sat next to her, she said nothing. He didn't order, but she more than made up for it by ordering a large sampler platter.

“Becca—” he started, but she glared at him. He lifted his hands in surrender. “I suppose you don't want to hear that they say ten percent of all sushi can make you sick.”

“Who's they?”

“I don't know.
They.
”

“Humph.”

“They also say it's bad for you. Rots your insides.”

She ignored him as the waitress brought her order.

“And they definitely say you ought to take it easy the first time,” he warned as she started eating.

She paused. “They say that about a lot of things?”

Tension and awareness crackled between them. Kent broke eye contact first.
Telling,
Becca thought, popping another bite into her mouth. She chewed slowly, absorbing the new taste.

Different,
she decided as she swallowed nonchalantly because Kent was watching her so carefully. Very different. The rice part was good, but as for everything else, she wasn't quite certain. She picked up yet another, then another. “I'm not as naive as you seem to think I am.” She licked her lips, then her fingers.

His gaze took in the motion of her tongue and she was grimly satisfied when his eyes darkened with heat. She ate two more pieces.

“Becca, do you have any idea how they get that stuff? They—”

“It's delicious,” she said, lying only a little. Oh boy, was she ever full. But she'd ordered this huge platter and couldn't imagine letting it all go to waste. “And I told you, you'd better be careful or I'll get the wrong idea about all your touching concern.” Another bite before she looked at him. “Which comes from what again, exactly?”

“It's a bit complicated.” He lifted a brow when she took yet another piece, but refrained from commenting.

“I do consider myself fairly intelligent.” She chewed carefully now, thinking that last piece might have been a mistake. Her stomach rolled. “Try me.”

“You're not going to like it.”

Definitely a mistake, that last one had been. She pressed a hand to her grumbling belly. “Why is that?” she managed to ask, thankfully sounding perfectly normal.

His jaw clenched again. “Truth?”

“Preferably.”

“Okay then, I—”

Uh-oh. Her stomach roiled again, violently, and despite desperately wanting to hear what Kent said, she had no choice but to leap up and run for the door, her hand over her mouth.

Not here, oh God, not here. Please don't let me be sick all over this nice carpeting, in front of the sexiest man she'd ever not wanted to be with.

“Becca, here.” With calm urgency, Kent pulled her out the door.

“Go away,” she said miserably, frantically pushing at him. She'd just
had
to have that last bite, she just
couldn't
resist.

The pain in her stomach doubled her over, grayed her vision.

Kent whipped her around the corner of the building to the alley, by the dumpster.

She didn't quite make it that far. But at least she didn't throw up in front of him.

She threw up
on
him.

 

S
HE WAS SITTING
on the salon steps the next morning, wallowing in humiliation, when Summer came bouncing up.

At the sight of her sister's troubled face, Summer stopped short, carefully popped the bubble she'd been making with her gum and sucked it in her mouth. “Uh-oh.”

“Tell me again why I wanted this makeover?” Becca demanded. “Was it so I could make a fool of myself over and over?”

“I take it you've done just that?” Summer jingled her keys until she found the one she needed. Eyeing her sister up and down as she let them in, she said with disgust, “I thought we tossed out all your jeans and T-shirts.”

Becca lifted a shoulder. “Little problem came up. I still had the clothes in my car and last night… Well, let's just say I just dropped them all off at the dry cleaners.”

They entered the silent, dark saloon. Summer flipped on the lights and music, and immediately the place took on that warm, comfy air that went a long way toward calming Becca's nerves.

Summer pushed her into one of the chairs. “You can borrow something of mine, soon as I fix that whirlwind hair. What did you do, sleep in a wind tunnel?”

“I didn't sleep.” Miserable, she groaned. “I was with Kent last night.”

“Cool.”

“I ate too much sushi and threw up on him.”

“Oh.” Summer popped another bubble. “Not exactly romantic.”

“This whole makeover/adventure thing, it's not
really working out for me. I'm thinking of forgetting the whole thing.”

“But you can't!”

Becca sighed. “I know. All that trouble you went to for your contest.”

Guilt flashed over Summer's face so quickly Becca decided she must have imagined it. “It has nothing to do with the contest,” she said. “You just looked so great.”

“It was easier being boring. I didn't get wet or cold or sick. And if I was still that person, I'd know Kent was following me around because he liked me.
Me.
The old me, not the new me.”

“Are you speaking English at all?”

“Maybe it's just about my new looks. Maybe I'm dazzling him, you know? I can't stop wondering about that. If I go back to the old look, I could find out for sure.”

Summer's hands stilled in her hair. “Okay, say that one more time, I'm starting to follow you, scary as that is to admit.”

Becca sighed, closed her eyes and admitted the truth she hadn't yet faced herself. “I like him. Too much.”

“Then don't give up.” Summer squeezed her shoulders gently. “Remember your new lease on
life. Go for it. Just stay away from raw fish for God's sake.”

“You're right. A few roadblocks and I'm ready to give up. What kind of determination is that? I can do better.”

“Absolutely. There's all kinds of things you haven't tried.”

“Are we talking about fun and adventure, or catching a man?”

Summer grinned at her in the mirror. “Both.”

 

A
FEW MINUTES LATER
, dressed in borrowed clothes, Becca ran down the stairs of the building, into the glorious, clear day and directly into a hard block wall of a chest.

Kent's chest.

With a low murmur of concern, he grabbed her, and before she could say a word, gently brought her down the last step, past the cement bench, to the trash can there.

Hanging over it, with Kent's strong arm around her waist, his other hand holding her head, she could do nothing but stare into the bottom of the can, which had three oozing, rotting bananas in the bottom.

“Why are you out of bed?” he demanded. “Damn, I knew I should have gone home with you
last night and stayed. You should have let me.” He stroked her forehead, holding back her hair, and she had to laugh.

“I'm not sick, Kent.”

“You were running, of course you're sick. Don't worry, I've got you.”

Man, did he ever. She was held against his warm, strong body and she could have stayed there all day if it hadn't been for the stomach turning stench of the can. “I'm okay.”

“You're sure?”

“Unless I have to keep breathing this air down here.”

He pulled back a little, peering into her face with understandable wariness. “You're not still nauseous?”

She shook her head. “And I was really hoping last night was just a bad dream.”

“So were my shoes.”

Wincing, she said, “I'm so sorry. I've never done that before.”

“If it makes you feel any better, sushi doesn't agree with me, either.”

She smiled and his gaze followed the movements of her lips for one long moment before he let her go. Then he picked up a brown bag he must have dropped on the bench.

She recognized the slogan and her mouth watered in response.
“Donuts,”
she whispered reverently.

“Got an extra jelly roll in here.” He watched as she opened the bag and dug right in. “So what's the next…?” When he trailed off, she glanced up, mouth full, hands covered in powered sugar. Embarrassed, she licked her lips and Kent's eyes glazed over.

She nearly choked when she realized he was getting turned on by watching her eat. The power of it, the sheer delight in being able to render him speechless was amazing. Feeling a bit wicked now, she licked her lips again.

A strangled sort of sound escaped from deep in his throat.

She bit back her grin as renewed hope surged. “What's the next what?”

He shook his head as if to clear it and looked purposely away from her mouth. “What's the next adventure?”

You,
she almost said. “Something warm with no food.”

“Good. Something safe.”

“Didn't say that.” She swallowed her last bite and dusted off the sugar. “I was thinking rock climbing.”

“Rock climbing,” he repeated. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

He groaned. “How did I know you were going to say that? Look Becca, you really have to know what you're doing for that particular sport.”

“Don't worry, I'm a quick learner.”

“I thought heights disagreed with you. Remember parasailing?”

“It was the cold water that disagreed with me.”

He stared at her, then sighed. “All right, fine. Be stubborn, that's nothing new. Rock climbing. I'll pick you up at six. We'll go to The Wall at Squaw Valley.”

“
You
know how to rock climb?”

He looked grumpy. “Just said so, didn't I?”

“Actually, no you didn't.”

“Yeah, I know what I'm doing. Good thing too, because someone has to follow you around and make sure you don't kill yourself.”

Is that all he was doing? “I'll be fine,” she said stiffly. “I don't need a keeper.”

“It's not for you, it's for me.” He looked mightily unhappy. “I won't be able to sleep unless I know you didn't hurt yourself.”

“Well gee, when you put it that way. Oh, please come.”

“Six o'clock,” he repeated. “Dinner afterward.”

Her heart stopped. “Dinner. As in…a date?”

“You wanted adventure.” His dark eyes were clear, full of an intriguing mix of annoyance and temper. “Unless you got it all out of your system?”

The way he was looking at her made her legs quiver. “Oh no, not yet.”

“No Dennis this time, and definitely I pick the restaurant.”

A date with Kent. It was her greatest fantasy. Okay, not quite her greatest—her greatest involved him and her, silk sheets and a moonlit bedroom, but this was close enough.