Teasing in Stilettos: Contemporary Romance Read online

  "Isn’t that the truth." She told herself not to fall for the fantasy, but as the lights dimmed and the dancers started again, a small part of her wanted to fall.

  5

  By the end of the performance, Cara had managed to relax. And if she was honest with herself, she was actually having fun. Tate was fun. Funny. He led her out of the hallway with all the other attendees, his arm respectfully at her lower back.

  "Do you have a driver picking you up?"

  She almost laughed. A driver? As if. "No, no driver. I'll just get home the same way I got here, taxi."

  "That's silly. I'll just give you a ride."

  "I think you've fulfilled your good deed of the day quota."

  He shook his head. "Not hardly enough, come on."

  "Tate, I get it. You're trying to make up for your brother. But honestly, you don't need to. I'm good." She waved her hand. "This will heal, and I'll get a cab. I'll see you around."

  He leveled her with a gaze. "Cara, I may not have brought you here, but I'm taking you home. It's safer. I have the car. Why are you being stubborn?"

  She willed her shoulders to relax. She was being stubborn. And if she was honest with herself, her feet were killing her. By the time she made it out to a less populated part of the street to get a taxi or an Uber, she would be ready to gnaw her own feet off. "Okay, thank you."

  "Fantastic. Maybe we can get a bite to eat."

  "Tate—" She protested, but he wasn't in the mood to listen.

  "Look, if you had the same tiny hors d'oeuvres that I had during intermission, then you must be starving too. Mom always taught me to feed my dates."

  She wrinkled her nose. "Except this isn't a date."

  Tate rolled his eyes heavenward. "Let's see, you saw a lovely show, I played your knight in shining armor, I'm about to feed you, and I'm taking you home. This is definitely a date."

  She could tell he was teasing her and a smile tugged at her lips. "In that case, you're going to have to give me a foot rub. My feet are on fire."

  Tate laughed. "Done. But why do women always wear uncomfortable shoes?"

  "Because the most beautiful things never let you feel comfortable."

  He smiled down at her, his gaze holding hers. "Isn't that the truth?"

  He led her down the stairs of the Kennedy Center as their car pulled up to the curb. Behind them, there was a loud commotion as someone shouted after him.

  Cara turned and held her breath. Donovan. He was stumbling down the stairs. “You know, I should just go. You guys obviously have some stuff to work out. I don't want to get into the middle of anything.”

  The muscle in Tate’s jaw twitched. “No. I promised you food and to take you home and that's what I'm going to do.”

  He was trying to be sweet and keep his word to her. And she appreciated that. But the last thing she wanted was to be in Donovan’s sights. “No, it's okay. Your brother probably needs the ride more than I do.”

  “The hell he does. What Donovan needs is for someone to teach him a lesson. He should fend for himself for once.”

  Donovan approached with a sideways lurch and a stumble. “You fucking promised me that you weren't into her. And now you're taking her home to fuck her?”

  Tate dropped his voice low and leaned close to his brother. “That's enough, Donovan. First things first, you're going to speak to Cara with respect. Next, you’re going to get into a cab, go home, and sober up.”

  “So, what?" He leaned towards Cara and she stumbled back, trying to get as far away from him as possible. “Forget brotherly loyalty and fuck the whore?

  Tate’s voice dropped low and Cara shivered. She could recognize the danger in it, the menace, even if his brother couldn’t. “I've already told you to shut. The. Fuck. Up. It's time to go, Donovan. We'll discuss this in the morning.”

  His brother seemed to take the message and understand that Tate really wasn't fucking around this time. He backed off but glowered at her. “Once a whore always a whore, I guess.”

  Cara’s stomach roiled. She knew he was angry at her but to hate her like that was something else entirely. Tate took her hand deliberately and led her to the car. He waved the chauffeur off and opened the door for her himself before joining her on the other side.

  He didn't speak until they pulled away. “I'm really sorry about that. Donovan has gotten completely out of control lately. None of that has anything to do with you. It's not personal.”

  She strained her back before turning to face him. “I don't know. Someone calling me a whore sure feels personal. But then maybe that's just a girl thing. I'm sure if someone said that you had a little dick that wouldn't bother you at all.”

  He shook his head. With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he said, “Nope. Because I don’t.”

  She stuttered as she tried to hold the laugh back. “Seriously?”

  He winked. “You’ve got to know your strengths, right?” He directed the driver to the barbecue spot near Georgetown then turned to face her again. “I guess what I'm trying to say is that you didn't deserve that. I know it. Donovan is an asshole. Always has been an asshole. I try to keep him under control, but you know better than anybody how well that works.”

  She shook her head. “I don't remember him being this bad. At least in public. I mean, sure he drank, but he was never that belligerent.” Who was she kidding? He'd never cared that much. Until he thought she'd wanted Tate. Then he'd been ready and willing to hurt her. She hooked her thumb back toward the Kennedy Center. “That version of him is frightening.”

  Tate scrubbed his face with his hands. “You know what, new rule. No more talk about Donovan tonight.”

  She nodded. “I think I can work with that.”

  The barbecue spot he took her to was hopping at this time of night. It was a far cry from the restaurants on Pennsylvania Avenue and surrounding the capital. It was more of a college hangout spot full of students and hipsters, all vying for a position and a seat.

  “Maybe we're a little overdressed.”

  “Come on, Cara. Have a little fun.” He took her hand and led her inside, past the throngs of people to a tiny alcove in the back. He nodded at someone and they shouted that they’d have an order back to them in a minute.

  “Wow. I guess you come here a lot?”

  “You can say that. I also tip really well so whenever I pop in they give me the owner’s alcove where he sits to do paperwork and stuff.” He shrugged. “It's not fancy, but I like it. Is this okay?”

  She couldn't help but laugh. “This is perfect.”

  For the next hour, they ate and talked but still avoided the elephant in the room. She realized that this might've been the first uninterrupted conversation she’d ever had with Tate.

  By the time they were back in the car, he’d kept his promise to keep her fed and at least smiling. “But seriously though, a shake-your-booty-ho isn't exactly what I pictured for you.”

  Cara laughed. “What did you just say?”

  “Shake-your-booty-ho?”

  She laughed out loud, the kind of laugh where she had to hold her stomach to keep it from hurting. “Oh my God. I'm going to have to tell all the girls that this exact conversation happened.”

  “What, so I'll be the target of laughter in the stripper locker room?” He shrugged. “Whatever. I'm cool with it.”

  “I will have you know,” Cara said, “strippers have amazing core strength.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But is it ever going to be an Olympic Sport?”

  “You never know. They let golf in.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Did you just compare stripping to golf in terms of usefulness as a sport?”

  “You want to tell me that golf has a purpose? Other than to have a bunch of white guys running around pretending to use actual skill, pushing a little ball around the course.”

  “It is a skill.”

  She needled him some more. “Okay, okay, if you say so. But golf and baseball are the only two sports I know where grown men
are allowed to have potbellies.”

  “Do I look like I have a potbelly to you?”

  Cara eyed him. Nope. No potbelly there. Just hard, firm muscle. The kind to make your mouth water and make a girl want to lick some abs. Where had that come from?

  Oh, you know where that comes from. That dirty girl part of you that has always had a thing for Tate Anders. Yeah, there was that.

  They pulled up to her apartment and Tate opened his door, coming around her side to open hers. When she slipped her hand in his, a shiver went up her spine. It didn't matter that she’d had her fill of the Anders pool. It didn't matter what Donovan had said to her today. The part of her that had always been drawn to Tate was excited, thrilled. You know what your problem is? You have issues.

  She hitched her thumb toward the brownstone. “Thank you for the ride. This is me.”

  He nodded. “Okay, then I guess this is goodnight.”

  Butterflies danced slowly in her belly. And she resisted the urge to say, ‘Why does it have to be goodnight?’ Instead, she said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

  He took her hand, bringing it up to his face, and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Goodnight then, Cara.”

  Wow. That was ... wow. And because she needed to deflect some of the internal swooning, she cracked a joke. “Okay, Sir Galahad. Thank you. But how do I know where you’ve been with those lips?”

  Tate straightened and his lips tipped into a smile. “I suppose you could just ask me.”

  “Are you sure you can count that high?”

  Laughing, he answered, “I'm the numbers guy remember? Besides, it's not that high.”

  “Guess I'll take your word for it.” Instead of heading up to the stairs into her studio, she shifted on her feet.

  “I had fun tonight." His voice was low.

  “Me too. Thank you again for everything.”

  “Cara I—” He started, then stopped. “Fuck it.”

  He tugged on her hand, pulling her close to him until he could wrap an arm around her waist. Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribs as she anticipated, waited, wanted.

  Tate chose to thumb over her cheekbone and whispered, “I've been thinking about doing this all night.”

  His lips were soft and coaxing. Nothing was rushed or forced. Being kissed by Tate was like having her body slowly warmed and melted from the inside. He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching hers. Asking for permission maybe?

  She drew in a shuddering breath and leaned into him. With a low moan, Tate pulled her closer, sliding his hands into her hair and angling her head so he could kiss her deeper. His tongue slid over hers and he tasted like the chocolate mint chip milkshake he’d just had. Sweet and decadent and so not good for her.

  But in this moment, Cara didn’t care. She never indulged in fantasy because the reality was just so disappointing, but this time it wasn’t. It was safe to pretend. Because it was just a kiss. No more. She could pretend she'd picked the right brother.

  He sipped at her lips, gently massaging her neck. His other hand slid down her back to just above her ass and tucked her closer against him. Cara could feel his thickening erection pulsing against her belly and her core tightened with need, her core melting. She wanted him. More than she had then.

  His heat wrapped around her and she couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. And then suddenly he was pulling back. Letting her go.

  Tate stared at her as he tried to catch his breath. “Jesus. That was even better than the fantasy.”

  All Cara could do was stare as she desperately tried for equilibrium and breath. Breathing would be a good thing right about now. “Tate, I—”

  He shook his head. “No. Don’t say it. Have a good night, Cara.”

  And then he left her, standing on her sidewalk, completely lust struck.

  Tate felt like he was going to climb out of his skin. Cara North tasted better than anything he could've imagined. If he thought he wanted her two years ago, staying away from her now was going to be next to impossible.

  She's not your brother's girlfriend anymore. That was true. But after what Donovan had pulled tonight, this whole thing might be beyond that. Donovan had always been spoiled and privileged and of course, he thought the world owed him something, but he was out of control. And Tate had to do something about it.

  Their father had tried everything with Donovan but at the end of the day, his brother had no real repercussions. And it was about time that changed.

  After Cara had broken up with him it had gotten worse. Donovan had been a little obsessive about Cara. She was his way of sticking it to Tate. But the obsession and hatred had gotten out of hand. Tate knew for a fact that Donovan had tanked her chances for a spot with the Bryson Dance Company.

  She'd auditioned a few days after breaking up with him. Tate still remembered how she’d talked about it, her big audition. Her breakthrough opportunity. He hadn't thought Donovan had been listening, but apparently his brother had. Because the moment she dumped him, he set out to ruin her.

  Anders Financial supported a lot of arts initiatives in the DC area. Artists, dancers, actors, playwrights, theater companies.

  Donovan had been so angry and so jealous that he'd talked the board into not hiring her. By the time Tate found out, it was too late. The decision had been made and another dancer hired.

  For Donovan, Cara dancing at Club Prestige was another win for him. He managed to ruin her life enough that she was stripping to make ends meet. The idea of it made Tate ill. And now that he knew where she worked, Tate was pretty sure his brother would try and get her fired from there too. It was just how Donovan worked.

  Running into her last night was a complete accident but he'd been thrilled to learn that she hadn’t given up on her dream. And sure, maybe she didn't want him interfering, but since his brother had tipped the scales out of her favor, it was time he tipped them back.

  She won’t thank you for it. No. But then she wasn't going to know. All he had to do was make a few calls. What you should do is leave her alone. The problem with that was now that he’d kissed her, he wouldn't be able to. He needed more. One taste was hardly enough.

  He still didn't know what had happened, why she didn't show. He'd gone back to the house, only to see her running from Donovan. He'd tried calling her after. But she'd switched numbers. He'd been willing to put it all on the line for her. He hadn't given a shit that she was his brother’s girlfriend. Back then, all he could see was how wrong Donovan was for her and how unhappy he made her.

  But then, before he could work it out, she was gone. He wouldn't let her go again. Not now that she’d stumbled back into his life. He just had to convince her that not all Anders men were assholes.

  Easier said than done.

  6

  Tate told himself he wasn't nervous. And he wasn't. This was just a friendly visit. To see an old friend … of sorts. Not that he’d called in several favors to find out where she danced.

  He’d been surprised to find out that she taught dance classes for several places in the city. Why hadn't she mentioned she taught as well? She made it seem like she was only a stripper. Or maybe you made it seem like that.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and paced in front of Shock and Awe dance studio. She was in there. He knew it. He knew because he’d been having coffee at the cafe across the street and had seen her go inside. Stalker much? But, he was losing his nerve now.

  Finally a petite brunette with a giant flower in her hair and some kind of middle-eastern tattoo writing across her wrist came out. “Either you're going to pace out here or you're going to pace in here. And since I figure you're here to see Cara, let's not have you get arrested. You're the closest thing to a date she's had in six months.”

  “How did you know I'm here to see Cara?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I see everything. Now are you coming in or what?”

  He laughed. “I guess I'm coming in.”

  On the walls of the tiny lobby were hundreds of photos of dan
cers and dance teachers. Competitions won, trophies earned, and ribbons pinned. Cara featured heavily in many of them. “How long has Cara been teaching here?”

  The brunette’s brows rose. “You know, I don’t know. She was here before I came on a year ago, but I think she’s been teaching since she was in college at Juilliard. In the summers, she'd come down and apprentice. Back then though, I think it was only weekends but once she graduated, she took on more.”

  “So you’ve known her for a year?”

  “Yeah, when I met her, she was messed up over some guy I think. But if you’re the one that had her whistling when she came in this morning, then I’m all for it.”

  He grinned. “She was whistling?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Honey, if I didn’t prefer chicks, I’m pretty sure you’d have me whistling just by smiling at me. Lord help me, I’m a sucker for dimples.”

  He couldn’t help a full grin. He liked her. “Do you think Cara is a sucker for dimples? Because I need to work every angle I can get.”

  “She’s a woman, isn’t she?”

  “Excellent. Then my chances are looking up,” he quipped.

  The brunette eyed him over her glasses. “This is the point in time where I tell you I can mobilize a herd of angry women to kill you if you ever hurt my friend.”

  “Understood. And not my plan.”

  “Good. I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

  As he laughed the door to the studio opened and women filed out.

  Several openly stared at him and eyed him up and down. He sort of felt a little like a Christmas steak. It took a minute for Cara to finally come out, but he grinned when he saw her.

  She hesitated in the doorway. “Uh, Tate. What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to surprise you. And that’s not easy. Let me tell you. It took me trying five different studios. Club Prestige won’t even confirm you work there. But the others … It was a process of elimination.”

  “What’s so urgent you had to track me down?”

  Okay, so maybe he hadn’t thought this far. “I wanted to see you.”