Wilde for Her (A Wilde Security Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (3 page)

“You okay?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but no sound emerged. Oh. Yeah. Breathing was a good thing. She exhaled softly so as not to draw attention to the fact she’d been holding her breath, but his eyes narrowed and zeroed in on Preston over the top of her head.

“Linz,” he said with a distinct chill in the curt greeting.

Shit. He thought Preston had upset her. If he only knew where her thoughts had truly been…

“Wilde,” Preston said in the exact same cold tone, and then silence descended. The two men locked stares in their own private game of chicken. They’d never liked each other, and the end of her and Preston’s relationship had meant the end of any semblance of civility between them.

Eva returned her attention to her beer and the TVs, fully intending to ignore them both and leave them to do their macho thing, but a flash of blue fabric out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned on her stool to see the bridesmaid standing beside Preston, her blue eyes tracking from Preston to Cam and back. The woman’s beauty was even more stunning up close than it had been from across the room. Next to her, Eva felt like a kid playing make believe with her mother’s clothes and make-up.

“Oh, for godssakes.” The bridesmaid finally leaned between the men and held out a manicured hand in greeting. “If I wait for one of these He-men to introduce me, we’ll be standing here all day. I’m Lark Warren, Preston’s fiancée.”

The seat dropped out from under Eva’s ass and the room started a sickening whirl. Her stomach clenched as pain cleaved open the wound in her heart that had just barely healed.

“Fiancée?” she heard herself ask, but her voice sounded muffled like she was whispering through the roar of a waterfall.

“It’s all very recent.” Lark looped her arm through Preston’s and gave a dazzling smile. The ring on her finger caught and reflected the dim light from over the bar. “We’ve only been together about eight months, but when it’s right, it’s right.”

Eight months? Eva shut her eyes at the wash of fresh new pain, bitter and ice cold. Their relationship had ended only six months ago.

He’d cheated.

No wonder he’d wanted out. It had never been a case of him not wanting to marry—he just hadn’t wanted to marry
her
.

Cam’s hand left her shoulder, slid around her waist to keep her upright, and somehow, that gave her the fortification she needed to open her eyes and face Lark again.

The woman who was everything she wasn’t.

Chapter Four

Goddammit.

Cam tried to catch Lark’s gaze and motioned for her to ix-nay the marriage talk, but she continued to blithely crush Eva’s heart into dust with each innocent word out of her mouth. He didn’t think she was intentionally being cruel. She just had no fucking idea that the woman sitting across from her in stone-faced silence was once hoping for that ring, that wedding, and a ridiculous fairy tale happily ever after.

Goddamn Preston Linz.

Eva’s chest started heaving. He had no doubt she was on the verge of either punching something or breaking down and, shit, she wouldn’t forgive herself if she did either in front of her asshole ex. Cam wrapped his arm tighter around her and tucked her against his side, offering what little comfort he could. She was like an icicle beside him, cold and so very fragile.

She stared at her ex, but the hurt and betrayal Cam knew she was feeling was buried so far under the ice that nobody else saw it.

At least Preston the Bastard had the grace to look ashamed. He stood up so fast, his stool scraped across the floor. “You should get back to the reception, honey.” He tugged on Lark’s hand. “I’ll be upstairs when you’re done.”

Coward. Cam’s fingers curled into a fist and he worked to loosen them, although the ball-less, lying, cheating jackass deserved nothing more than to lose a few teeth—especially since he was now scowling at the way Cam’s arm wrapped protectively around Eva. Like he still had any right to her at all. Hah.

But that flash of jealousy gave Cam an excellent idea. He shifted behind Eva and wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her back against him and nuzzling her hair before breathing in her ear, “Play along.”

Her spine stiffened, but only for a split second before she caught on to his game. She relaxed against him and reached back to tangle her fingers in his hair in a possessive way that all but screamed, “
Mine!”
The gentle tug at his scalp sent blood rushing southward.

Damn. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all.

“Congratulations,” she said to Lark, and give the lady an Oscar because she sounded genuinely happy for the couple. “Do you have a date set? I’ve always wanted a spring wedding myself, but if
someone
doesn’t ask me soon, we’re not going to have time to plan.”

Cam summoned up his most indulgent smile. “I’m working up to it.”

“Oh my God,” Lark said. “I had no idea you two were a couple.”

“We’ve kept it quiet.” Eva dropped her hand from his hair to stroke her fingers affectionately back and forth over his forearm. “We used to work together and our relationship wasn’t exactly condoned.”

“But now that I’m no longer with MPD, there’s no need for secrecy anymore,” Cam added and watched Preston do the mental calculations. The guy’s eyes bugged as he realized that, according to their fictional timeline, Eva had been “cheating” on him at the same time he had been seeing Lark behind her back.

Yeah, pal, how do you like that little taste of your own medicine? Going down hard, isn’t it?

“I need to go,” Preston said. “I have a bit of work to do and Lark, shouldn’t you be getting back to the wedding?”

“You’re right, I should.” She smiled and lifted her face for a goodbye kiss.

Cam sure as hell didn’t want Eva seeing that, so he spun her seat around to face him and did the first thing that came to mind—he dropped his mouth to hers.

He almost thought she’d shove him away. Maybe punch him for good measure. But she didn’t. In fact, she didn’t offer any resistance at all. She looped her arms around his neck and threw herself into the kiss with the same ferocity that she did everything else. It was the kind of kiss that promised x-rated fun in his future, and the semi-erection he’d been fighting all day demanded instant attention. A distant part of his consciousness noticed Lark dragging away her very dismayed fiancé—but then he didn’t give a damn anymore and shut his eyes, melting into the kiss and giving as good as he got. Eva’s tongue met and parried with his, fighting for dominance, and a thrill rippled through him. Going to bed with her wouldn’t be sweet or gentle. It would be more like hand to hand combat, with each of them fighting to come out on top.

It was exactly what he’d always wanted from her.

Wait. What was he thinking? This kiss was a ruse. It wasn’t real. He was simply doing her a favor, being a good friend by helping her make her ex jealous to soothe her wounded pride.

Fuck, he really hated being stuck in the
friend
category.

Cam opened his eyes to stare down at her. It took another moment before Eva realized he’d stopped participating in the fake kiss and she pulled away, a question in her caramel colored eyes.

“They’re gone now,” he said by way of explanation, his voice far rougher than it should have been for a
friend
.

“Oh.” Her lips, wet from the kiss, parted on a soft exhale and his cock jumped, pressing painfully against the fly of his shorts. He needed to reach down and adjust things to make it more comfortable, but—well, this was Eva. He’d spent the last five years hiding this kind of reaction from her, and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to it.

She dropped her hands from his shoulders and spun toward the bar. “Okay, that was weird.”

Cam winced. Kissing her had been a lot of things, but for him, weird was nowhere on that list. “Yeah. Weird. Right.” He sat down on the stool beside her and took the opportunity to do some below-the-belt adjusting. “I need a shot of something strong. Want a shot?”

She nodded, but wouldn’t look at him. Goddammit.

Cam told the bartender to surprise them. Neither he nor Eva said anything more until two blood-red shots landed in front of them a few minutes later. In unison, they picked up the glasses, clinked the rims, tapped the bottoms on the bar, and downed the contents in their usual ritual. Cam caught a nasty whiff of the concoction as he raised it to his mouth, but by the time he realized it was essentially alcoholic hot sauce, it was already down his throat. It scorched his esophagus like liquid fire laced with chili peppers and he gagged.

“Oh, what the fuck was that?” Eva gasped, sticking out her tongue and breathing like a Lamaze student.

Tears leaked out of Cam’s eyes and he made a grab for one of the glasses of water the laughing bartender set down in front of them. The water did little to cool the nuclear explosion in his mouth, and he couldn’t form a reply.

“It’s called a Prairie Fire,” the bartender said.

“Shit,” Cam managed after gulping down most of the water on one breath. “Why didn’t you warn us, man?”

The bartender shrugged. “Entertainment. You wanted a surprise.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at a list of twelve shots scrawled on a chalkboard. “And not many people order off the specials list.”

“They don’t, huh?” Eva fished an ice cube out of her glass and slid Cam a challenging sideways glance as she crunched it. Like that, the weirdness of the last few minutes evaporated and she was Eva, his former partner and best friend, again.

And he knew that look.

“No.” He held up his hands. “We’re not going there.”

“Oh, I’m so going there. Betcha won’t try another
special
.”

Cam grumbled. Growing up with a twin, two older brothers, and one younger, dares had been a way of life. He’d lose his man card if he ever backed down from a bet, not to mention get razzed from within an inch of his life—and Eva knew this, too. Damn woman.

But…she was laughing now, which meant she wasn’t thinking about Preston Linz. She was angling for a distraction, and if he had to kill his liver to keep her from beating herself up over that guy, then so be it. “What kind of bet are we talking?”

“Fifty bucks. We each pick three shots for the other and the first to refuse one loses.”

“Fine. Do your worst.”

“I plan on it.” Eva studied the list, then ordered a Four Horsemen at the bartender’s recommendation. The shot look innocuous enough when it arrived. Just a squat glass with dark, goldish-brown liquor in it.

Eva frowned at it, apparently disappointed that it wasn’t flame red and reeking of hot sauce. “That doesn’t look so bad.”

Yeah, easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one drinking it. Any shot called the Four Horsemen had to be damn near apocalyptic.

Cam fortified himself before picking up the glass. He raised it in a toast to her, tapped the bottom on the bar, and with a shake of his head at his stupidity, he knocked it back. And shuddered.

“Oh. Oh, fuck. It’s like lighter fluid.”

Eva grinned. “Your eyes are tearing up again.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but the glare lost some of its effect since it squeezed a few tears out to roll down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and banged the glass down with a triumphant
thunk
. “Go ahead and yuck it up now. You just wait.”

Eva held her hand up, palm out, and curled her fingers twice in a Matrix-style
bring it
gesture.

Yeah, it was on. He took his time to study every alcoholic horror the chalkboard had to offer, then finally decided on something called a Cement Mixer.

Eva’s smile widened when the bartender cheerily poured a shot of Bailey’s. “Hah. I love Bailey’s.”

Cam said nothing, just tilted his head to draw her attention back to what the bartender was doing. The man poured lime juice into the Bailey’s and the liqueur immediately started to curdle. Eva winced and reached for the shot like someone would reach into a snake pit. She gave him a pleading look, but he wasn’t about to take pity now. Not when the apocalyptic lighter fluid shot was still burning a hole in the lining of his stomach.

He mimed taking the shot. “Bottoms up or pay up.”

“Oh, I hate you,” she said, then downed it. Or at least tried to, but its consistency was indeed like cement and she ended up chewing it, making faces the whole time.

Cam laughed. “Hey, this was your idea.”

“I’m gonna get you for this one,” she mumbled and finally managed to force the Cement Mixer down her throat.

The game quickly devolved from there, ending with Eva choking down a shot called Motor Oil, which she declared aptly named because it did taste like the black gunk that came out of a car long overdue for an oil change. Cam finished on some nasty concoction of Jägermeister and a dollop of warm mayonnaise and the slimy consistency had him coughing the moment it hit the back of his throat.

Eva laughed so hard she snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. “The look on your face… Oh, wait, where’s your phone? I need a record of this.”

She reached across the space between them and stuck her hand in his right front pocket, where he always kept his phone. With the alcohol in his system already warming him from the inside out, he thought he might burst into flames at the feel of her hand brushing against his thigh—and other,
harder
things. He started fantasizing about her closing her hand around his cock and giving it a hard stroke right there under the overhang of the bar—and that didn’t help his situation any. He really should be thinking about baseball. Or golf. That was a perfectly unexciting sport. Except her fingers were right there, and he found himself unable to focus on anything but the sensation of her lingering touch. He tried to suppress the groan gathering in his chest, but didn’t quite manage it.

Eva stared up at him, her eyes glazed and lids heavy. Her lips parted on a soft, shaky exhale, her fingers flexed, and anticipation rocketed up his shaft. Just a few more centimeters over…

After a long, uncertain moment, she withdrew her hand. He missed the contact instantly.

Hello, awkward silence. And they had been doing so well, too.

“We should get back to the wedding,” she said a bit breathlessly and wobbled to her feet.

The wedding. Right. But, damn, with the way she was looking at him, all but stripping him with her eyes…

He stood, but didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, he stepped into her personal space, his heart pounding so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone in the bar could hear it. His fingers trembled a little as he flicked the tie of her halter top off her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

She glanced toward the door and winced. “No. I really don’t want to go back there.”

“Me, either,” he admitted and leaned closer.

Eva titled her head back, her lips half parted. Maybe this was it. Maybe she’d finally give in to the sexual tension that had always been on a low simmer between them. Maybe—

She backed up a step. “I’m going to call it a night, but you should probably go back to the reception. It is your brother’s wedding, after all.”

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Nodding, Cam ruthlessly squashed the surge of disappointment and stepped back. “Let me pay our tab, then I’ll walk you up.”

“I’m a big girl, Wilde. Can take care of myself.” She rubbed her thumb across his jaw, then patted his cheek. “They even let me carry a gun and everything.”

Which reminded him that she was supposedly carrying a firearm somewhere under her dress, and his gaze dropped down her body. A surge of giddy lightheadedness combined with the muffled buzz of alcohol had him grabbing the bar to steady himself.

Eva turned to stroll away, but ruined her exit by wobbling dangerously after a few steps. He launched forward and caught her around the waist before she toppled, but his sense of balance was just as wonky, and they both nearly tumbled into a laughing heap on the floor.

“I’m good. I’m good,” she gasped once they righted themselves. She pushed him away but didn’t brace herself for when he let go and ended up flailing around like Kermit the Frog before he caught her again.

He stifled a laugh. “No, you’re not. You can’t possibly be because I’m buzzing pretty good, and I have at least seventy pounds on you.”