Wicked Bet: A Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

“Me?” He sounded so surprised I had to laugh. Here he’d sent me out to buy lingerie, told me when to put it on, and told me when to take my other clothes off, yet he was shocked that he’d actually have to change his clothes once. Men!
 

“If I can walk into an adult toy store by myself, then you can manage to change into a suit.”
 

“Fair enough,” he said, but I saw his slight frown at the mention of a suit. As if he didn’t wear one most days of the week.
 

“Wear that black one that I like, okay?”

“‘Kay,” he said. “Do I have to shave?” he said, turning into the lot where his car was parked.

I looked over at the dark sexy stubble that grazed his strong jaw line. It made me want to kiss him, and once he’d parked, I did just that.
 

“No,” I said, smiling at him. “You don’t have to shave.”

Chapter Twelve

“HOW DO I look?” I asked nervously, checking the clock over the bar again.

“Like a million bucks. You’re going to have him eating out of the palm of your hand. Or any other body part you’d like,” my favorite bartender said with a grin.
 

I smiled, but inside I was nervous. Ian’s plan had been so erotic, so much fun. I didn’t want to disappoint him. Okay, yeah, I didn’t want to lose the bet, either. But mostly I didn’t want to let him down.
 

“You okay? You really do look amazing.”
 

I looked down at my low-cut cocktail dress. It was a little fancy for the early afternoon, but I’d figured what the hell. The surest way to seduce my husband was to look and feel my best. And hopefully drive him out of his mind with lust.
 

My dress was sleeveless, with thin straps draping over my shoulders that just barely concealed the bra straps of my new lingerie. The dress flared out at the waist but was quite short. I was also wearing brand new thigh-high stockings, held up by a sexy garter belt. I’d bought it at the lingerie store this morning and had ‘forgotten’ to tell Ian about it so that I could surprise him with it later.
 

I’d spent some time on my makeup and hair, too, making my eyes smoky and adding soft waves to my bronze tresses. Before parting outside the hardware store, we’d agreed that I’d go back to the apartment first, get ready, and then text him when I was done. It almost felt like we were a bride and groom again, not allowed to see each other before the wedding.

The final part of my fill-him-with-lust plan was my four inch black heels. Not very practical for walking, but the added height would be good for increasing my confidence. If I could look my sexy husband in the eye, or nearly so, it would help me keep the upper hand. It was my turn, and I was going to be the one in charge for the afternoon.

“Thanks,” I said. “I guess I just feel a little foolish dressed like this in the middle of the day.”
 

“You’ll feel better when Ian gets here and looks all hot in his suit.”
 

“Yeah, I guess. I just wish that we could do this at night ... seems like the sort of thing to do in a dark corner of a bar.”
 

“Maybe I can do something about that,” she said, and she strode toward a lighting panel near the entrance to the kitchen. She fiddled with the light switches, plunging one area of the restaurant into darkness, lighting another one up. She appeared oblivious of the startled looks of the few customers that lingered over their lunches.
 

Finally, she seemed satisfied with the lighting. The bar area was much darker now, almost as if it were night outside. The main part of the restaurant was also dimmer, though not as much. As she came back to me, a few diners were still staring in our direction.
 

She shrugged dismissively. “Screw them,” she said. Then she glanced toward the door and her eyes widened. “No,” she said, her voice faint. “Screw
him
.”
 

I turned to look. It was Ian. God he looked hot in his dark suit. He’d slicked his short hair back, and put on a dark maroon tie. I wanted to grab him by the hand, shove him into the coatroom, and ride him until we both passed out from exhaustion. And judging by the bartender’s stare, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to do that.
 

“Holy crap. You are a very lucky woman.” With visible effort, she pulled her eyes off my husband and turned to me. She whispered as he drew nearer. “Remember when I said you didn’t have to quit your job to spend more time together? Fuck that. Quit your job. Spend more time together. And good luck,” she added, moving away from me.
 

It was showtime. I kept my eyes on the bar as Ian came up next to me. I waited a long moment before turning to him.
 

“You look amazing,” he said, genuine appreciation in his voice.
 

“Thank you,” I said politely. “I’m Alyssa.”
 

To his credit, it only took him a second to figure out the game. “I’m Ian,” he said, shaking the hand I offered. I’d been counting on him being a quick study.
 

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.
 

I shook my head, turning back to my drink. The bartender had been down at the end of the bar, but now she approached us, shooting me a subtle wink and asking Ian what he wanted.
 

“I’ll have whatever the lady is having,” he said.
 

When his glass of red wine arrived, he clinked it against mine. I smiled, looking into his eyes, trying to see what a stranger would see in them. Such dark irises, almost charcoal. I wondered if other people ever noticed how his eyes could sparkle with mischief, narrow in concern, and intensify when he was excited?

It was weird, thinking of him as a stranger and not my soulmate, but if we were going to truly reconnect, then we couldn’t keep behaving in the same way as always. We needed do something different. And it wasn’t going to be easy. I was going to make him work for it. We’d both have to do that.
 

He sipped the wine slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “So what do you do, Alyssa?”

I was prepared for this question. I’d even sketched out a basic answer in my head. I’d say I was in education, that I loved working with kids. I’d even memorized a cute anecdote I’d found on a kindergarten teacher’s blog. But I didn’t end up saying any of that.
 

“I’m in advertising,” I said instead.
 

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Do you like it?”

“Yes, I really do. And I know I’m good at it. Good at helping people see that the product I’m promoting is just what they need to make their lives better. So yeah, I like that part.”
 

Ian’s gaze was steady on mine. “But there’s a part you don’t like?”
 

“The long hours. And I always take work home with me. Sometimes ... it feels like I’m so busy planning how to make other people feel something, how to make other people find what they need that I don’t make time for the things I need. For the things I want. Or for the things the people in my life want.”
 

“Like who? Do you have a boyfriend or a husband?”
 

“No ... I live with my, umm, my cat. I have this cat. And sometimes he feels lonely.”
 

“You live with a cat?” Ian frowned. He was definitely a dog person.

“Yes. Sometimes, he curls up on my bed, late at night. And he sleeps while I’m in the den on my laptop, working on my advertising campaigns. And, well, I know he’s just a cat, but I can tell it hurts him. That I’m not in there with him. That it feels like I’m putting my job before him.”
 

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to make you feel that way,” Ian said, and this time I was the one who frowned. Ian paused for a moment, seeming to mentally review what he’d just said. “I mean, I’m sure you don’t mean to make him feel that way.”
 

This wasn’t at all the way I’d planned this to go. But now that I’d started, I should see it through. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a lawyer.”
 

“I had a feeling you might say that,” I said, and he smiled. “Do you like your job?”
 

“I love it. I love helping people get justice. Using all my knowledge, skills, and creativity to find a solution to their problems. I’m good at what I do. I think I’m going to be made a partner in the firm in the next few years—maybe sooner.”
 

“Hopefully,” I said, clinking my glass against his again. “Are there any parts of it you don’t like?”

“Yeah,” he said, for the first time looking at his drink instead of me. “I work long hours, too. But also ... sometimes, when I’m with someone, family or friends, I’ll be thinking about one of my cases. About how I can help my client. And the person I’m with can sometimes tell that my mind is on something else.”
 

Okay, I was not expecting that. Did he really feel that way? That I was distracted when I was with him? I stared at him until he met my eyes, and then I could see that he did. I wonder why he’d never said anything like that before.
 

The tension grew, and then he broke it with a crooked half smile. “Or at least that’s how my cat sometimes feels.”
 

I held his gaze for a moment longer and then I smiled, too. “You have a cat, too? You somehow strike me as the type to claim to be allergic.”
 

“What can I say, I’ve always been a fan of pussy ... cats,” he said, his voice teasingly suggestive.
 

But instead of responding in kind, I wanted to finish our coded but serious discussion the right way. “I’m going to try to be better. To be a better pet-owner. To make sure I give Fluffy all of my attention when I’m with him.”
 

He nodded. “And I’m going to try to spend more time with little Boopsie.”
 

“Boopsie? I’m afraid your cat might jump out the window when she finds out that’s her name.”
 

“Perhaps,” he said, and then we talked about inconsequential things. The city. The traffic. The weather. Except it didn’t feel inconsequential. It felt like we were making time for each other. Really listening to each other. We weren’t rushing. We weren’t thinking about other things.
 

My wine was almost gone, but I sipped the last of it and looked up to find Ian staring at me. Hungrily. Needfully. “Has anyone told you recently how beautiful you are?”

 
“Not recently.”
 

“Then they should have. So I will. You're gorgeous. I’m glad you’re single. You don’t look married,” he said, purposely echoing what that man had said when I’d come here a few weeks ago. “You’re much to sexy to be a staid and respectable wife.”
 

Smiling at the sparkle in his eyes, I knew it was time to continue with the erotic agenda I’d planned for my handsome husband. “Respectable is overrated, in my opinion.”
 

“Mine too. After all, you’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and you’re drinking alone at a bar, dressed like every guy’s fantasy, and talking to a strange man. Nope, not even close to respectable behavior. I think you’re a bad girl deep down inside.”
 

“Maybe,” I said, trying to look nonchalant, trying not to flush with pleasure at his wicked words.
 

“If so, I’d really like to meet that side of you. How about we go somewhere and get to know each other better?”

“I’m fine right here, thanks.”
 

“Okay, we’ll stay here,” he said, his eyes scanning the room. “Let’s get a table and I’ll order some appetizers.”
 

“No, thank you.” At least this part of my plan was back on track. He was working for it. For me. For us.
 

“Come on, Lyss. I mean, Alyssa. You’re a beautiful, charming woman. I’d really like to get to know you better. And I think you’ll find I’m not a bad guy even if I do work too much.”
 

I was wavering. Maybe this wasn’t part of my plan, but it might work out.
 

Ian could see I was torn. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll play you for it. I win, we’ll go get a table. You win, we’ll stay here.”
 

Now we had a bet inside a bet. But what the hell ... apparently that worked for us. “All right,” I said. “If we can agree on the game.”
 

Ian looked around. “Miss,” he said to the bartender. She’d stayed away while we were talking, dusting liquor bottles along the back wall. She turned now with a carefully polite smile on her face. “Do you have a deck of cards?” Ian asked.

She didn’t even blink at this somewhat strange request, making me fairly certain she’d been listening in. I ducked my head to hide my grin—I probably would have done the same in her situation. “No, sorry. But there’s a dartboard in the back room if that helps any.”
 

Ian looked at me, and I nodded. “That’ll do,” he said.
 

* * *

“First round goes to me. Getting nervous?” Ian asked. We were playing two out of three, and he’d just won the first set. The dartboard was in a small room off the main hallway. There was also a pool table, but it was covered and looked as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time.
 

Ian had taken off his suit coat, freeing up his arms. His crisp white shirt and tie showed off his thick biceps well, and contrasted nicely with his dark eyes. For a moment I wondered what it would be like if this really were my first date with him. He was being charming and flirty and humorous, but he also kept looking at me with hunger in his eyes. I was fairly certain that were I just getting to know him, I’d be well on my way to falling head-over-heels by now.
 

He plucked all six darts off the board and handed me mine. I took careful aim and let my first one fly. It landed near to the outer ring, nowhere near the bull’s eye I’d been aiming for.
 

Ian moved closer. “Somehow I get the feeling you normally have better aim. Maybe it’s those sexy high heels that are making you unstable.” He trailed a finger down my side and rested one hand and then the other on my hips. “Maybe this will make you steadier.”