The Man Tamer. Cindi Myers
couldn’t stop the hot flush that engulfed her face. The curse of being fair-skinned, she told herself.
Her drink arrived and she took a long sip, trying to rein in her libido. She had a job to do here. Garret obviously had rough edges that needed smoothing and she was just the woman to do it. Contrary to what Denton thought, the object was not to emasculate the man, only to bring his behavior up to a higher level.
“You look great,” he said. “I’m really glad you called me. I’ve been meaning to ask Denton for your number.”
Did this mean he didn’t know about Denton’s plans for them? “Has Denton talked to you about me?” she asked.
“No.” His smile faded. “Is there something I should know about you and Denton?”
“No! I mean, I’m a writer for a magazine he owns. Belinda magazine?”
“Never heard of it. But then, I don’t pay much attention to that sort of thing.”
Now she was certain Denton hadn’t mentioned his scheme to play the “Wild Man meets the Man Tamer” card in the press. And she wasn’t going to be the one to tell Garret. With luck, Denton would forget the publicity angle, though she fully intended to hold him to the terms of their bet. Better change the subject. “Tell me about Australia,” she said. “How long have you been in the States?”
“A couple of years. I got to know a lot of Yanks when I was doing a tour in Iraq and they convinced me this was the place to be for lacrosse. I played on a good team in Queensland and was able to land a roster spot with the Denver Mammoth. Then Dallas was awarded an expansion team this year and Denton recruited me for that.”
The strains of Vivaldi coming from her purse made her jump. She grabbed for the bag. “Sorry, it’s my phone.”
“Of course.” He made a face but said nothing more.
She flipped open the phone and checked the number. Rhonda. What was she doing calling this time of evening?
Rachel shut off the phone and stuffed it back into her bag. “It was my sister. I’ll call her back later.” She shifted in her chair and returned her focus to their previous conversation. “You were in Iraq?” she asked. “As a soldier?”
“No, I was there as a tourist.”
She made a face. “Very funny.” Maybe the war wasn’t a good topic for casual conversation. “Why lacrosse? Why not basketball or rugby or something else?”
He shrugged. “I played rugby in school, but lacrosse was what I was good at.” His grin returned. “It’s a sport that requires you to be very good with your hands.”
“And you’re good with your hands.”
“That I am.” He took a long drink, eyes locked to hers.
If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn her drink was spiked. How else to explain the tingling in her nerve endings and the flush of heat through her body?
She pushed back her chair. “Let’s dance.”
He shook his head. “No thanks. I don’t dance.”
“Everyone dances.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. It was like trying to move a boulder. “Come on,” she said. “I thought athletes were supposed to be light on their feet.”
“Not this one.” But he let her pull him out of his chair and lead him toward the dance floor. “Don’t come crying to me when your toes are all black and blue.”
“Oh please. There are no steps to this kind of dancing. Just move with the music.”
Two minutes later she was doing her best not to laugh. But she didn’t hide it well enough.
“Don’t think I don’t see that smirk,” he said. He waved his arms in the air like a man trying to flag down a plane. “I told you I wasn’t any good at this.”
“You’re terrible!” she said, bending double with laughter. She had never met anyone with such a lack of rhythm. “I hope you play lacrosse better than you dance.”
“Come to a game and see me. The first one is next week. We’re playing the Calgary Roughnecks.”
“Maybe I will come.” She knew as much about lacrosse as she did bocci ball, but she was willing to make certain sacrifices for the sake of her career.
The music switched abruptly to a slow, dreamy jazz riff. Garret stopped flailing about. “This is more like it,” he said.
The next thing she knew, he was pulling her into his arms. His chest was a hard, warm wall she was pressed against, his arms wrapped securely around her. She told herself she should pull back, put some distance between them. Things were happening too quickly and she needed to think.
But being close to him like this felt better than a full-body massage. Not to mention he was a much better dancer at this speed. They swayed together in a gentle rhythm that made her think of other moves they might make, more intimate rhythms they might respond to.
His hand slid down to the base of her spine. The heat of his touch radiated straight to her groin. She squirmed, letting him know he should back off, but that only succeeded in grinding her pelvis against the hard ridge of his erection. She looked up and his eyes met hers. “See what you do to me?” he said.
“You should keep your hands to yourself,” she said.
“Sorry. I can’t seem to help myself. It’s getting to be a habit where you’re concerned.”
One habit she wasn’t sure she wanted him to break. “Have you been drinking champagne again?” she teased.
“No, I’m intoxicated by you.”
It was a terrible line, but delivered in heated tones, in that sexy voice of his, it made her melt. This wasn’t going at all as she’d imagined.
He bent closer, his mouth very near hers. She shut her eyes and held her breath, anticipating his kiss. She was dying to know what his mouth would feel like. She needed to know.
Instead he pushed her away. She opened her eyes and sighed out her breath in exasperation. And men claimed women liked to tease!
“Song’s over,” he said. But his gaze remained fixed on hers, his eyes dark, intense.
She whirled and started blindly across the floor, intending to find the ladies’ room. She needed to get hold of herself. After all, she was the Man Tamer. She was the one who was supposed to be in charge here!
3
Man-Taming Sex
Dear Man Tamer:
There’s a really hot guy at work that I’m very attracted to. I think he feels the same way about me. I want to ask him out for drinks but I’m afraid where we might end up. Is it ever okay to have sex on the first date?
Hot to Trot
Dear Hot to Trot:
Will you respect yourself in the morning? If you’re secure in yourself, and don’t try to delude yourself into thinking it’s love at this early stage of the game, I say there’s nothing wrong with going for it. If he’s as interested as you say, you could have a great time. Just go in with your eyes open, accepting that he may not call you in the morning. And remember to be safe. Bring condoms in case he doesn’t.
The Man Tamer
SINCE A COLD SHOWER wasn’t readily available, Garret decided he needed a drink. He elbowed his way to the bar and ordered Irish whiskey. Though it would take more than one drink to put out the fire Rachel had started in him.
She returned from the ladies’ room, hair freshly combed, lipstick bright on those lips he’d come dangerously close to kissing. Except he’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop at one kiss, that