That First Kiss

  Hand in hand, Piper let Tom lead the way outside where he assured her a cab awaited them. The moment the doors whisked open, she felt the cold slap of reality hit her square in the face.

  Standing alongside the tall, well put together Mr. Bradford and the same waifish woman she’d spotted with him earlier, was Tate. Even under the glaring lights illuminating the portico and everything within a twenty-foot radius, he looked incredible. For a moment, her eyes clung to the soft taupe cotton hugging his butt and the way the knit blue sweater matching the exact shade of his eyes in moments of great emotion wrapped around his broad shoulders.

  His back was to her, but the other pair, the ones that looked as if they could pass as brother and sister, which was a tad disconcerting, was facing her and so when she walked out, they noticed almost immediately. What should have been a passing glance quickly turned into a curious once-over when they noticed her preoccupation. Their attention caught Tate’s and he twisted around to see what they were looking at.

  If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t let on. Piper, on the other hand, felt the familiar jolt of being under his watchful eye envelope her. His blue eyes held her in an unblinking stare that seemed to penetrate all the way to her core. Her legs wobbled slightly as Tom pulled her to a stop at the edge of the drive to await their cab. Staring out into the night, Piper focused all of her energy on locating the right car in a sea of them as they coasted up the drive to pick up and release guests. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t completely block out Tate’s lingering gaze or his voice as he spoke with his friends.

  As they waited for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, Piper managed to pick up bits and pieces of their conversation. They were going out for a bite to eat, maybe a club. The woman’s name was Cas. Was that short for Cassandra? She didn’t know. Gambling was definitely on the table for the night’s events, and Tate was planning to get wasted.

  By the time their car arrived, Piper was eager to get the hell out of there. Tom opened the door for her and she dove in. As the cab pulled away, she couldn’t help herself. She looked back, and got caught in the steely trap of Tate Larson’s unyielding eyes.

  *****

  For all the turmoil she was in on the way there, Piper’s troubling thoughts fled her completely the moment they walked into the MGM. Opulent wasn’t an adequate descriptor for the emerald building or it rich designs. Towering ceilings, television screen lined walls featuring all manner of sports, including horse racing and golf. And a noise level set at deafening.

  Everywhere, people shouted, games pinged, change clanged, until it all blended together to create a cacophony of noise that easily surpassed some of the clubs she frequented back home.

  As Piper’s virgin eyes struggled to take it all in, Tom guided her across the floor with one strong arm wrapped securely around her waist.

  “I was thinking we would start with dinner,” he said, bending closer so she could hear him. “What’s your favorite food?”

  Piper felt her stomach grumble as she thought over his question. “I’ll do anything except sushi.” She shuddered at the thought of eating raw fish. She didn’t care how thin they sliced it, how clean their hands were, or how much everyone else in the world swore by it, raw meat of any kind did not sound the least bit appetizing or sanitary.

  “No problem. I’m not a big fan of the stuff either.” Tom continued to move them through the throng while he came up with a game plan. “How about Mexican?”

  “Like Taco Bell Mexican or traditional Mexico Mexican?”

  The look Tom passed her was memorable. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that and assume what you meant to say was ‘Hell yes, I love Mexican!’”

  Piper giggled. “Well, what can I say to that?” The question was meant to be a rhetorical one, but one look from Tom said it all. “Hell yes, I love Mexican!” she shouted enthusiastically.

  His face split into a toothy grin. “Then Mexican ye shall have.”

  The restaurant he took her to was located inside the massive MGM grounds and was decked out in the bright, lively colors one might expect to find in a club, yet it somehow managed to come off as warm and inviting. Orange walls and pink booths lined the perimeter and small round tables surrounded by red art deco inspired plastic chairs decorated the floors. A bar sprawled off to one side and showcased a glowing blue wall of—what she assumed to be—very expensive liquor. Everything was clean lines and simple design, right down to the white dinnerware and black cotton napkins.

  Piper loved it.

  They were seated by a very pleasant woman who looked to be in her early to late thirties with brown hair drawn back into a softly waving ponytail and makeup that made Piper feel plain in comparison.

  They each ordered tequila and a side of water to start.

  “To a great evening,” Tom said, holding up his glass in a toast.

  “To a great evening,” Piper echoed, clinking her glass with his and tossing back the shot. Tom held up his hand to signal another round. By the time dinner arrived on the table, Piper was feeling a little tipsy. They were having fun, tossing around jokes and comparing childhoods just like she did with the girls. Like old friends.

  “So where did you grow up?” Tom asked, cutting a cube of steak and offering it to her.

  Leaning forward, Piper didn’t think twice about wrapping her lips around his fork and accepting the juicy hunk of meat. When they were first presented with the menu, neither of them could decide what to choose, so they agreed to both pick something that sounded good and share it. He got the Oaxaca carne asada, which was just a fancy way of saying spicy steak, and she got the chicken enchiladas. Both turned out to be delicious.

  Taking a big swig of water to wash away some of the burn, Piper began assembling another wrap. “In a little town in Alabama.” She shrugged. “It’s not much to write home about.”

  “Is that why you came to Chicago?” He leaned in to take a bite of the enchilada she held out for him. “Mmm, yum.”

  “Pretty much,” she said, tipping her head from side to side. “There isn’t a lot of opportunity in Wilcox.” Simple explanations, she had learned, were the way to go when a person didn’t want anyone digging too deep into their past. She didn’t have anything to hide, but she would rather leave her time in Wilcox in Wilcox.

  “What about family? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Mom, dad, aunts, uncles?”

  “One younger brother, and yes on all other counts.” She sat back to look at him. “What about you?”

  “Yes to all of the above,” he said with a firm nod. He lifted his water glass and peered at her over the rim as he brought it closer to his lips. “But they’re all in Puerto Rico.” He took a drink as silence came down over the table.

  Piper wasn’t sure what to say, how to respond. Was what he said a good or bad thing? “I’m…sorry?”

  He left her hanging for a moment longer, and then chuckled softly. “Don’t be. I grew up in Puerto Rico with my family. We had a good life. But by the time I turned eighteen I was sharing my bedroom with my three younger brothers. My four sisters were sharing the second bedroom and my parents had converted the living room into a part-time master suite. To say it was crowded would be putting it mildly.

  “So when my grandparents announced they were planning to move to the states, I expressed my desire to go with them. We took all the necessary steps, filled out all the necessary paperwork to pass guardianship to my grandparents, and before I knew it, I was living in Chicago and pursuing the American dream.”

  “I thought you had to have a visa to come here. You make it sound so easy.”

  “Nope, no visa,” Tom said with a shake of his head. “Puerto Ricans don’t need that kind of paperwork to enter the states. As for making it sound easy, maybe, but it wasn’t. I had to work hard to get where I am today, but I imagine you know a little something about that.” His eyes expressed an infinite amount of understanding that words alone would never do justice.
br />   Piper simply nodded. “That I do,” she murmured, lifting the last of her tequila to her lips. “That I do.”

  28

  “Aren’t you hungry yet?” Casey complained, tugging on his sleeve.

  “Nope.” Tate kept his attention glued to the restaurant waiting for Piper to emerge. He was starving, but he had waited for more than an hour already, so he figured it couldn’t be too much longer.

  If he’d been a smart man, he would have killed two birds with one stone and eaten the second they stepped through the doors. Then Casey wouldn’t be complaining that she was hungry and he wouldn’t be wishing he had a T-bone sitting in front of him right now.

  He was an idiot all the way around. As soon as Piper and the cook climbed into their cab, he’d flagged down the next to follow. Jon and Casey hadn’t been sure why he kept stalling, but as soon as they saw the way he looked at Piper, they had their answers. It became a game, one they were eager to play.

  In her classically playful way, Casey shouted to the driver, “Follow that cab!” The middle-aged balding man didn’t jump to do her bidding, but as soon as Jon dangled the promise of a forty dollar bonus, he suddenly developed a lead foot.

  No amount of fast driving or skilled maneuvering could make up for the fact that they had to wait in a line, slowly creeping forward as each car ahead of them waited to drop off their cargo. Tate watched impatiently as Piper disappeared inside the massive hotel.

  He’d soon followed and it took all three of them to locate her through the masses, but once they did, Tate was determined to keep her in his sights. If he looked away for even a second, he could lose her completely. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

  “What if she went out the back door?” Casey questioned.

  “She didn’t,” Tate growled.

  “Maybe she choked on a chicken bone and needs you to come rescue her.”

  He chose to ignore her.

  “Maybe—”

  “No, no, and no,” Tate interrupted her. For the last half hour this is what he’d had to endure. The constant what if’s from his annoying ex-girlfriend. She didn’t mean any harm, but Tate was so high-strung that he was likely to snap at the slightest provocation. Having been together as long as they had, he would have thought she knew that about him by now. Then again, she had always seemed to enjoy pushing his buttons.

  “Can we go eat now?”

  “Cas.” This time Jon stopped her. “Leave the man alone. Can’t you see he’s about to lose his mind? I don’t think you want to be standing in his way when the shit hits the fan.”

  “Who said there will be any shit?” Tate asked, briefly turning away from his post to address his old friend.

  “Oh, there will be shit,” he said confidently as he downed the last of his bourbon and raised his hand to flag down the bartender.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “And you, my friend, are delusional.” He paused to put in his order then turned to face Tate directly. “Your girlfriend—”

  “Assistant.”

  “Assistant,” Jon amended with an impatient lift of one eyebrow, “is having dinner with another man. Is on a date with another man,” he emphasized. “Are you really going to sit there and tell me there won’t be any shit?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. He turned away, sipping at his fresh drink and disengaging from the conversation.

  Beside him, Casey slowly twisted her glass in small circles on the bar top. Tate resumed watch. “So why is your girlfriend—” Tate shot her a look of death. “Sorry, assistant on a date with another guy if you two have been seeing each other?”

  “We’re not technically together,” he muttered into his drink.

  “I’m sorry, you’re not technically together?” she questioned incredulously. “Then forgive my asking, but why the hell are we sitting here when we could be anyplace else? You know, actually having fun. I assume you are familiar with the concept.”

  Tate didn’t have a good answer for that, so he didn’t bother to try. Frankly speaking, Piper was his and he did not like the idea of her spending her time with any man other than him.

  “Do you love her?”

  “No. I don’t love anyone,” he grumbled.

  “So you don’t love your mother, your brother, your-”

  “Of course I love them,” Tate snapped. “What the hell is your point?”

  Casey shrugged. “My point is you do love someone.”

  “It goes without saying.”

  “Do you love me?”

  Tate’s head whipped around and he looked at her, aghast. “Once, but not anymore.”

  “That hurts, Tate Larson, but I’ll let it slide this time,” she warned playfully, her attempt to lighten the mood failing miserably. Her next question was more subdued. “Have you loved anyone since we split?” He raised his brow to say what-do-you-think and her expression dropped, growing more serious than he had ever seen it. “That’s not healthy, Tate. You need love to be whole. To be happy. Are you really telling me that you haven’t let anyone else into your heart in all this time?”

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  “I think it is,” she scoffed, grabbing his arm to make him face her. “If this is about us, then we need to fix it, right here, right now. You can’t let what happened between us set the tone for the rest of your life.”

  “Yeah? And what do you propose we do about that?”

  “Follow my lead,” she said, tipping her head.

  Tate followed the motion to see Piper exiting the restaurant. She had a flush on her cheeks and a smile on her face.

  Game on, Tate thought fiercely. He rose from the stool and grasped Casey’s outstretched hand. Together they joined the crowd of gamblers with their target in their sights.

  *****

  Tom was more fun than she could have imagined. He was always smiling, always telling jokes and she could relate to him on a personal level. It didn’t get much better than that. Plus—and she knew it was only their first date and she didn’t know him all that well yet—he was way less moody than Tate. He didn’t fly off the handle, he didn’t snap at her constantly and he genuinely seemed to enjoy her company. The choice couldn’t be much clearer if it walked up to her and punched her in the face.

  Tom was the better catch.

  So why was she still thinking about Tate?

  Maybe because every time she scanned her surroundings she seemed to see his face in the crowd. Like the guy standing beside the row of slot machines. He had that same air of confidence about him evident in the simple but commanding way that he stood, like he owned the room and everything in it. His body was similar, too. Tall, lean build with wide-set shoulders and a tapered waist. Even his clothes resembled Tate’s.

  Piper peered closer, straining her eyes to see across the expansive space. Surely not, she thought, scrutinizing every small detail in a series of snapshots created by people interrupting her view as they passed by. But it was. It was definitely him.

  What is he doing here? she wondered. Then he laughed, a head tipped back, rip-roaring sort of laugh, and the crowd parted slightly, revealing the waif of a woman at his side, staring adoringly up at him.

  God! It was like the man was determined to ruin her evening. Thoughts of violence sliced through her mind at an alarming rate and Piper felt the urge to act on each and every one of them.

  “So where do you want to start?” Tom asked her, oblivious to her mounting rage.

  She knew exactly where she wanted to start, and it was with that womanizing pile of dog crap with a cap of blond, run-your-fingers-through-me hair.

  Moving without volition and completely against her better judgment, Piper propelled herself across the room. Tom called after her, but she couldn’t be stopped. Self-directed anger and a healthy dose of rage added a hard edge to her stride as she closed in on her intended victim.

  People gave her a wide berth as she cut across the floor. Her eyes glued to the
couple ahead, Piper saw red as the woman—Cas she thought her name was—reached up to brush a bit of hair off Tate’s forehead. How dare she touch him like that? How dare he let her?

  She’d start with his balls and work her way up from there.

  “What are you doing here?” Piper barked, halting just a few steps away. Close enough to see Tate’s shoulders stiffen. Slowly, he turned to face her, unwittingly giving her a full on view of the little hussy who passed her a curious look. Piper glared back openly. It wasn’t her fault that Tate was the way he was, but she instantly hated the woman on principle.

  “Piper, what a pleasant surprise,” Tate said, smiling ear to ear, his blue eyes sparkling.

  Sparkling!

  Tom appeared at her side and she experienced a brief moment of pleasure at seeing Tate’s confident smile falter. “Oh, Mr. Larson,” Tom said, sounding surprised to see Tate there too. “I didn’t realize you were a fan of the casinos.” He held out his hand. Tate studied it like it was diseased before grudgingly fitting his hand into Tom’s.

  “When in Vegas,” he said cryptically. “I didn’t realize you were a gambling man. Lose much money yet tonight?”

  Piper recognized the jab for what it was, and if Tom had, he certainly didn’t let on. “Not yet, but the night is still young. How about yourself?”

  “Not a dime, but then, I never lose.” Tate’s hard gaze shifted back to Piper.

  Awkward silence fell like a pall over their intimate group, in which Piper and Tate were locked in a standoff while Tom and Tate’s…whatever she was, fumbled for something to say or do to expel the tension.