Tease Me Read online

  “Lainey, there’s more at stake here than—”

  She stepped aside and motioned to the door. “Then follow your instincts.”

  Tucker heard the words he’d tossed so cavalierly in her face the night before thrown down like a gauntlet between them. He stared long and hard at her. She held his gaze unwaveringly. He had no idea what had happened in the last twenty-four hours to finally make her see the light, but …

  He turned back to the room. “Okay. But if he so much as—”

  Lainey glanced at the monitor. “He put the gun down, Tucker.” She turned back to him. “He put the gun down! I was right!” She wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug as the ladies cheered. “I did it,” she whispered. “I was right.”

  “You pick a hell of a way to prove a point,” he said, holding her just as tightly.

  “It’s one of my more lovable traits,” she said dryly.

  Her eyes popped wide when he grabbed her head and pulled her close for a hard, fast kiss. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

  “About what?” she said in dazed confusion when he released her.

  “Being lovable.” He pulled her hand. “I’ll tell you just how much after this is over.”

  “Stop dancing around the doorway, you two, and get back over here,” Bernice said. “It looks like he’s going to do it.”

  Tucker pulled her back for one more kiss. “I do love you, Lainey.”

  “I finally got it right.” She smiled up at him. “I love you, Tucker. Thank you for believing in me. For showing me how to believe in myself.”

  “Always have, always will. I won’t let you down, Lainey.”

  “I know. I truly know.”

  “Did you really say you love me?” She nodded, and he rubbed his chest. “I think my heart is about to explode.” He shot her a grin. “Come on, let’s watch Lillian finish doing her number on this weasel. Then I’ll kill him.”

  She sighed and pressed a hand to her heart. “You say the most romantic things.”

  He winked and pulled her with him back into the room. “And just think, this is only the beginning.”

  Lainey pulled their joined hands up and pressed a kiss to his fingers. Her eyes shining, she said, “I can hardly wait.”

  EPILOGUE

  In the end it had taken a weasel to trick a weasel. Damian could take lessons on snake-oil salesmanship from Frank Halliday. He had managed to persuade Damian to put away his gun by explaining that everything Damian was doing was being filmed on a hidden camera that could send the transmission to the local police headquarters at the flip of a modem switch. The last part was a small fib, but Damian was already on the hook.

  Halliday went on to explain that if Damian could come up with the dirt for Halliday’s exposé of Fontana, he would be eligible for a hefty finder’s fee from Halliday’s television network. He named a figure that made everyone’s eyes pop wide except for Lillian’s. She smoothly interjected that if Damian surrendered a certain share of that figure to her and destroyed all the copies of the contracts that he’d made while in Florida, she would tear up his contract with her. To everyone’s amazement and immense relief, he agreed.

  The whole thing had taken thirty minutes. It had taken less than half of that for the word to get around about Tucker and Lainey. Damian and Halliday hadn’t even left the building before the ladies had already begun planning the wedding.

  Lainey paced in Lillian’s office a week later, waiting for Tucker and Lillian to get back. They’d gone this morning to meet with Damian and Halliday to retrieve the money and the contracts. If all went well, Halliday would take over working with Damian on the Fontana story and they’d be out of the picture for good.

  They were thirty minutes late.

  Just then the door burst open and Lillian strolled into the room. Her new look had been an instant hit with the salon’s clientele, so she’d opted to keep it. She had her hair up in a tight twist with two black chopsticks stuck into it. Lainey had to admit that it did go with her mandarin-style top. Which was a startling shade of crimson. Lillian waved a package at Lainey, flashing matching red nails with Oriental characters neatly painted on them.

  “We did it,” she crowed. “The little weasel came up with the goods!” She hugged Lainey, who was certain she heard her ribs crack, then turned to the door. “Well, don’t stand around out there.”

  Lainey turned to find Tucker lounging in the doorway. “I didn’t want to risk another hug,” he said, rubbing his sides.

  He turned his gaze to Lainey. “Sorry we took so long. I stopped at the executive offices at the Fairmont to talk with management about some consulting work. I showed them a carefully edited clip of our tape of Damian waving a gun at a hotel guest, and they agreed they might need to rethink some of their security measures.” He let a slow smile slide across his face. “Did you worry about me?”

  Lainey wanted to hug herself as she basked in the warmth of his gaze. “Not in the least. You had Lillian there to watch out for you.”

  “That’s my girl,” Lillian said. She glanced at her wrist. “We got back just in time too.”

  Lainey forced her gaze away from her future husband and turned around. “Time for what?” she asked warily.

  “Your bridal shower.”

  “My bridal—” She broke off and looked at Tucker. “Did you know anything about this?”

  “Who, me?”

  She narrowed her gaze, but there was a smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. “You could have warned me.”

  He held his arms out. “Hey, they threatened to have a bachelor party for me if I ratted.”

  She flashed a look of mock horror. “Well, in that case you’re forgiven.”

  “I thought you’d understand.”

  “Enough standing around.” Lillian bustled past her to the door. “I have to run next door and give this to Minerva.”

  Lainey stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Lillian, I don’t know if I thanked you for all that you’ve done. I—”

  “Nonsense,” Lillian said. “Just take care of this one here”—she nodded at a grinning Tucker—“and we’ll call it even.”

  Lainey smiled. “My pleasure.”

  Tucker stepped into the room and pulled Lainey back against him. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that.”

  Lillian went out and closed the door, then stuck her head back inside. “You’ve got fifteen minutes, then I’m coming back to get you. Don’t do or say anything to make her mad, Tucker, the whole gang is next door waiting. They’ve spent all morning getting the place ready.” She started to close the door, then opened it again. “Oh, yes, Irma and Ida asked me if they could go with us later today to look at dresses.”

  “Dresses?” Lainey looked at Tucker, who shrugged. She looked at Lillian. “What dresses?”

  “Didn’t Minerva tell you? We made an appointment at Betty Louise’s Bridal Boutique for three-thirty.”

  “But I, that is, we—”

  Tucker leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I don’t care what you wear to marry me, Lainey, as long as you marry me.”

  She melted against him. “Fine,” she said weakly. “Three-thirty sounds fine.”

  Lillian winked at Tucker. “Remember, fifteen minutes. And stay out of the massage room. Stephan is particular about who touches his oil bottles.” She shut the door on a flushing Lainey and a chuckling Tucker.

  He pulled her up tight. “And to think I thought the jet set had all the fun.”

  She looked up at him. “Are you sure you’re ready for all of this?”

  He nodded without a second’s hesitation. “You know you don’t have to go with them. I can talk to Lillian.”

  She shook her head. “No, they’re as excited about this as we are. I won’t spoil their fun. You just have to promise not to laugh when I come down the aisle.”

  “Is Lillian going on this shopping trip?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Then I make
no promises.” At her scowl, he held her chin and lowered his mouth to hers. “Laughing, smiling, loving,” he said softly. “I want all of that with you. On our wedding day and every day afterward.” He kissed her. “I fall more in love with you every second.”

  Lainey showed her approval with a long, slow kiss that had him backing her up against the copier. Her giggle broke their kiss. “Tucker, we can’t. Lillian will be back any second.”

  “Then when can we?”

  “As soon as I get back from picking out my wedding dress.” She smiled up at him. “Wanna crash my bridal shower with me?”

  “Do I have to go shopping too?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Three weeks later Tucker stood in the white, flower-decked gazebo located in the center of the park. He swore the whole town had turned out for the wedding. He peered through the milling, chattering throng and waited for his bride to make her appearance. All voices hushed as the organist began the wedding march.

  He held his breath as the crowd parted.

  Sunshine poured down through a sudden parting in the clouds, bathing Lillian in a golden light as she stepped to the end of the red carpeting that had been rolled across the grass to the gazebo steps. Her dress was nothing short of stunning. Short being the operative word. And pink. Shocking was the shade that came to Tucker’s mind.

  Then Lillian moved down the carpet and took her place as maid of honor. On the arm of her aunt, who wore a more matronly version of Lillian’s outfit, Lainey was a beautiful vision in a smartly tailored cream-colored silk suit worn with a lacy rose-colored shell.

  As she walked toward him, Tucker thought about the more traditional life he’d wanted. He looked out over the congregation, then back at his soon-to-be wife, who winked at him as if to say she knew exactly what he was thinking. She probably did. There was nothing remotely traditional about the woman and the life he’d chosen. And that suited him perfectly.

  THE EDITOR’S CORNER

  Welcome to Loveswept!

  We have an irresistible e-original for you coming next month: Juliet Rosetti’s sexy and wickedly fun THE ESCAPE DIARIES. In this hilarious debut, we’re introduced to appealing heroine Mazie Maguire as we follow her on an outrageous adventure on the run. Don’t miss this e-original – I guarantee you’ll fall in love with Mazie and her funny antics.

  We’re also offering four more spellbinding and thrilling books from Donna Kauffman: BOUNTY HUNTER, TANGO IN PARADISE, ILLEGAL MOTION, and BLACK SATIN, as well as THE MAGIC, an enchanting medieval historical from Juliana Garnett.

  If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: We start 2013 with a fabulous new e-original from Wendy Vella, THE RELUCTANT COUNTESS, Donna Kauffman’s captivating WILD RAIN, Karen Leabo’s moving MILLICENT’S MEDICINE MAN, and three fantastic titles from Linda Cajio: SILK ON THE SKIN, HARD HABIT TO BREAK, and THE RELUCTANT PRINCE. In February, we have another alluring e-original for you, Sharon Cullen’s THE NOTORIOUS LADY JANE, Patricia Olney’s touching and funny JADE’S GAMBLE, Linda Cajio’s sexy STRICTLY BUSINESS, Sally Goldenbaum’s wonderful A DREAM TO CLING TO, and two enticing books from Sandra Chastain, LOVE AND A BLUE-EYED COWBOY and MIDNIGHT FANTASY. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…

  Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …

  Read on for an excerpt from Ruthie Knox’s

  About Last Night

  Chapter One

  The Pigeon Man was usually here by now. Tuning out her companion’s self-serving story for a moment, Cath double-checked the LED display suspended over the station platform. Ten minutes until the train. In this woman’s company, it would feel like a lifetime.

  Resigned to her fate, Cath crossed her legs and relaxed back against the bench. At least she could enjoy the un-seasonably cool morning—the first break all week from the miserable July weather that had been tormenting London.

  “… and they told me it was the most brilliant way to add a tactile element to protest action they’d ever heard of. I happened to mention you wanted to put the piece in your exhibit, but they didn’t know who you are,” Amanda said, her prep-school English accent turning the statement into an accusation.

  Cath perked up. “I’m with the V and A. They know the V and A, right?” She was a small cog, but she worked for a big machine. Surely even Amanda’s hard-core activist cronies had heard of the Victoria and Albert Museum’s world-renowned collection, even if they hadn’t heard of the upcoming exhibit on the history of hand knitting that Cath had been hired to assist with.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Amanda said dismissively, and Cath spotted the sun gleaming off the bald pate of the Pigeon Man as he made his way up the steps. He took his place in front of the map kiosk and fixed his eyes on the ground. Calm today, then. When he didn’t talk, the Pigeon Man could pass for normal. It was when he launched into agitated conversation with a stranger that he began thrusting his head forward in a bird-like manner and his beady eyes and beaky nose took on greater prominence.

  He pulled a candy bar out of his pocket, and she remembered it was Friday. He was often late on Fridays, no doubt because he stopped at the newsstand to buy himself some end-of-the-week chocolate.

  The thought caught her up short. Shit, did she really know the habits of the train station regulars that well? She did a quick survey of the sparsely populated platform. Emo Boy was wearing his favorite pair of skinny jeans this morning, and Princess had gotten her roots touched up.

  Sadly, yes, she did.

  “The next person who comes up the steps will be an older lady carrying a purse the size of a bus and a bakery bag with a croissant in it,” Cath said.

  “What?”

  “It’s a prediction.”

  “You’re clairvoyant now?” Amanda asked, her pert nose in the air.

  “Sure.” Cath was beginning to see how her pathetic store of knowledge might come in handy. “I know who’s coming up the stairs next, and I know you’re going to do the right thing and give me that straitjacket for the exhibit.”

  Thinking of the exhibit reminded her that she and her boss, Judith, would be pawing through sweaters from storage this morning. Cath rummaged through her bag for her antihistamines, freed two from their hermetic blisters, and swallowed them with a sip of water. Curatorial work could be sneezy. She’d learned to arrive prepared.

  As she slipped her water bottle back into her bag, Bus Purse came into view, right on schedule.

  Amanda frowned and straightened up, trying to get a better view of the steps. “You can see down to the high street. That’s how you knew she was coming.”

  “You’re closer than I am. Can you see down there?”

  The frown deepened. “Well, you must be using a mirror or something. It’s not as if you’re capable of magic.”

  “Wanna bet?” Cath answered, warming to the challenge.

  Magic had never been her specialty, but she wanted that straitjacket. It had been featured in a widely covered protest demonstration Amanda and her buddies had staged outside the prime minister’s residence a few years ago, and it would look fabulous on display, the perfect visual complement to the story the museum’s exhibit would tell.

  Unfortunately, Amanda had a stranglehold on the thing, and Cath had known her long enough to understand she got a kick out of stringing people along.

  On the other hand, she was also competitive and narcissistic, which made her the sort of woman who rarely turned down a bet.

  “How about this?” Cath asked. “If I correctly predict the next two people up those steps, you give me the jacket.” It was possible. Just. Greenwich was way out in Zone Four on the London transport map, far enough from the city center to avoid being a true commuter suburb. The station platform
never got too crowded, even during rush hour. Most of the regulars for this particular train had already arrived. The question was, Who was missing?

  Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “What do I get if you’re wrong?”

  “I’ll stop bugging you about the straitjacket.”

  This was a lie, but no lapsed Catholic from Chicago’s South Side was above lying for a good cause, and Cath considered her career a good cause.

  Amanda leaned forward, all excitement now, and said, “Make it three and you’re on.”

  The first one was easy. Cath heard the musical clang of the ticket machine dispensing change down at street level and knew it had to be the dog guy from the park, because he always took the 7:09 from Greenwich to Bank on Fridays, and he bought his single ticket from the vending machine with cash.

  “Old guy in a fedora,” she said.

  He came up the steps and made his way to the empty bench next to them.

  Amanda inclined her head, acknowledging one down.

  Next up was tricky. Normally, it would be the girl with the two-tone hair, but it was late summer, and people took vacations. The girl had been missing all week. Cath imagined her on a beach in Spain, soaking up the sun in a red bikini. What if she was back, though?

  The booming laugh of Bill at the ticket window carried up the stairs. The Merry Widow, then. Bill was a friendly guy, but he pulled out all the stops for the Widow.

  “Redhead with three inches of cleavage,” Cath said.

  The Merry Widow rose into view, proud bosom bobbing.

  Amanda gave a low whistle of appreciation.

  Cath glanced at the station’s clock and repressed a smile. She only needed one more to complete the hat trick, and you could set your watch by the next guy.

  “Tall blond man in an expensive suit, Financial Times under his arm,” she said, then added, “Possibly a cyborg.”

  Thirty seconds ticked by, and City rose into view, punctual as ever and way too good looking to be human.