Tempting Her Best Friend(6)

Deflect, hedge, beat around the bush! “I went clothes shopping today.”

He blinked once, then arched an eyebrow. “We need to find you some real excitement if a new wardrobe gets you this amped up.”

“I came to the same conclusion myself the other day—that I need more excitement in my life, more…well, more—which is what prompted my somewhat impromptu shopping spree for my trip tomorrow. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She placed her wineglass on the coffee table and led him to her bedroom where she had everything she’d bought that day laid out on the bed. Matching sets of lace underwear and bras in black, white, and red. A body-hugging, red halter dress that reached a mere few inches below her ass, and a black pair of what the sales lady called fuck-me boots that reached several inches above her knees. Her casual wear consisted of skintight jeans, leggings, and curve-hugging tops.

But her pride and joy hung over the closet door: a white gown she’d purchased for the masquerade ball. Wearing the strapless bodice and floor-length skirt made up of more layers of tulle than a debutante at prom, she’d be a modern-day Cinderella. Not to mention with her fear of never getting married, she was seizing the opportunity to wear a wedding dress under the guise of it being a ball gown. There was nothing wrong with secretly pandering to her inner child.

Alyssa tore her eyes away from her goodies to find a confused look on Dillon’s face.

“You, uh—” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You planning on getting married this weekend?”

“It’s a ball gown.” Well, it is now. “For the masquerade ball Saturday night. I have a mask and everything.”

Still staring at the clothes, he asked, “Why do I get the feeling I’m missing vital information in this story?”

Ignoring the doubts echoing in her head, she decided to just tell him her plan. Some part of her really hoped he’d object, profess his undying love, and they could move on to the naked parts of her original fantasy, proving he was wrong about himself and they did have a future together after all. “The other day I read a book where the hero and heroine met at a club and had a one-night stand, which got me thinking—”

His eyes cut up to meet hers. “I thought those books all had ‘and they lived happily ever after’ endings. One-night stands don’t usually fall into that category.”

“That’s just how they got together the first time. Throughout the rest of the book they fall in love and all that, but that’s beside my point.”

“Which is?”

“Which is that there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and not all relationships start with dating websites or meeting through mutual friends. The former being something I will never do, and the latter option offering no prospects since you’re really my only friend and insist you know no one of the slightest worth.”

He crossed his arms and scowled. “Construction guys are all pigs.”

“You’re a construction guy, Dillon.”

“I rest my case,” he said. “Why do you want a relationship so badly right now anyway?”

Admitting she’d wanted one for years with him was so not happening. “I’m old.”

“You’re twenty-four.”

“My biological clock is ticking.”

“No, it’s not.” He definitely wasn’t buying this explanation. She racked her brain for something else to say, but lying was not one of her strong suits.

“Fine!” she said, throwing her hands up. “I’m horny as hell and wouldn’t mind having someone around who enjoys my cooking and gives me the occasional mind-blowing orgasm, okay? Is that really so much to ask for?”

She waited, the breath she held burning in her lungs. The muscles in his jaw worked, and for a brief moment she thought he might actually be jealous at the idea of her with another man…then he opened his mouth and ruined everything.

“No, I suppose it’s not.”

Alyssa released her breath on a sigh of defeat. Anonymous quickie with a cover model it is.

“So what does all this have to do with your trip to the romance convention?” he asked.

“Like I said before, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and there’s more than one way to scratch an itch. The convention is known for hiring a couple dozen smoking-hot cover models to serve and entertain the attendees, which happens to be very convenient since I’m in the mood to be served and entertained.” Not that she thought he had the proverbial wound to go with it, but she tossed out some salt anyway. “And you know how the saying goes: What happens in Vegas…”