Read Tempt Me Tonight for Free Online

he insisted. “For me, anyway. I…” He shook his head, as if at a loss. “I’ll never know what got into me that night.”
    She cautiously returned a soft gaze to his, even managed a grin. “I do. Beer. And hormones.”
    He shrugged concedingly. “Guess that pretty much sums it up.” And she didn’t realize she’d quit looking at him again until he lifted her chin with one bent finger. The touch moved through her like liquid as their eyes met. “I wished for a long time I could tell you how sorry I was, but you said you didn’t want to hear from me and I took you at your word. Now that you’re here, though, I can finally tell you. I’m sorry, Trish.”
    The words hung between them like something volatile, alive. Part of her wanted to
really
talk to him, really discuss it like two normal, mature adults. But a bigger part of her couldn’t go there, couldn’t give the past that much presence in her life today. So she took the easier road. “It’s all right, Joe. It’s ancient history and there’s no reason to dredge it up. Life went on and we’re both fine. Right?”
    He took a moment answering, those warm blue eyes nearly drowning her. “Right.”
    Fairly desperate to lighten the mood, she pointed at the snake curled on his arm. “What’s this?”
    He glanced down at it, then at her, amused. “It’s called a tattoo.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “But…a snake? Why a snake?”
    “Not just a snake,” he pointed out. “A cobra.”
    She could tell from his tone of voice that it actually meant something to him, but she still had no idea what. “What’s so special about cobras?”
    “I have one. Not a snake—a car. I’ve spent the last eight years restoring a 1967 427 Shelby Cobra. I just put the finishing touches on a few months ago.”
    A Shelby Cobra. Trish wasn’t sure, but she thought one of the top partners in her firm had fought over the same model of car in his divorce settlement—and if so, it was a fairly valuable vehicle. Just how well
was
Joe doing for himself? “So you celebrated by getting a tattoo?” she asked with a half smile.
    “Not exactly. Got the tattoo about five years back. Remember Billy Sturgis? We were out drinking one night over near Cincinnati. Tattoo place was next to the bar, so we both decided to get one. I was deep into the restoration then, so the cobra made sense.”
    “What did Billy get?”
    The corners of his mouth quirked. “Not a damn thing. I went first and he backed out after he figured out it hurt.”
    Just then, Debbie’s song faded into another slow country tune, one Trish actually knew—a sexy song by Billy Currington called, “Must Be Doing Something Right.” Joe reached for her hand, closing it in his. “Dance with me.”
    Oh boy. The request, the warm hand—together, they were as paralyzing as when she’d first seen him tonight. But she had no intention of dancing with him. Dancing would mean touching, swaying. You couldn’t dance to
this
song
without
swaying.
    Just then, Rowdy arrived with a tray full of beer bottles and one lone mixed drink, and she thought,
Saved by the bartender.
When he set it before her, she drew her fingers from Joe’s and took a long sip. She still didn’t want to drink much, but she needed a little fortification, and it gave her something safer to do with her hands.
    Yet as soon as Rowdy departed, Joe took the glass right back out of her grasp and set it down, then drew her to her feet as easily as if she’d been a rag doll without a brain.
    And she let him. Just plain let him. Because it was so easy. And who could resist a nice, sexy slab of fudge—allergic or not? Simple as that, she let him pull her a few steps from the table; she let him take her in his arms.
    Clearly, Joe Ramsey had never learned the art of dancing any differently than he had in a dark high school gym—his hands settled low on her hips and their torsos pressed gently together. Her arms came to rest around his neck, same as if she’d