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Taylor bit down on her bottom lip, chewing it as if it afforded her the luxury of time. “I don’t want a relationship.”
“Who said anything about a relationship? This is a fling. A one-nighter. Get you past first base, so to speak.”
First base! Taylor swallowed the lump that choked off her breathing. The icy chill that slid along her bones had absolutely nothing to do with Auckland’s balmy May evening breeze.
Her fingers grazed the side of her handbag and snapped back as if scalded when she remembered exactly what her bag contained.
Condoms!
An appropriate reminder: preparation and safety first.
She could do this. She could. She grabbed Nita’s arm. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Nita stalled mid-step. “What? You expect me to come too?”
“I need you. I can’t do this on my own. I need…”
“Cade Harper is who you need, Taylor. You said so yourself. Cade’s a love ’em and leave ’em sort of guy. Now go.” Nita gave her a push toward the
entrance and waved goodbye.
Love and leave. Definitely perfect credentials. Cade didn’t know it yet, but he was the answer to Taylor’s prayers.
Battling the raw panic lodged in her gut as every second edged her toward turning and running, Taylor surveyed the patrons. Her hands shook. She wanted to forget the idea. Forget sex. Forget Cade Harper. If she could.
Instead she focused on the entrance, and her pulse quickened.
The best man. How appropriate.
Cade hadn’t been at the wedding rehearsal; otherwise she would have noticed him. But at the wedding, dressed in a black tuxedo that molded his broad shoulders and a crisp white dress shirt with diamond stud buttons, he absolutely stood out and, within seconds, she’d made her decision. He was perfect for the job.
Squaring her shoulders, Taylor shoved the bar door open. For a moment, she stood motionless, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting, the noise and heat hitting her in an undulating wave.
This was it.
Taking a deep breath, she clutched her bag and ventured in.
A single length of hand-chiseled wood operated as a bar and spanned one end of the room. Behind it were a medley of liquors and an ornate mirror etched with the slogan of a famous beer. Tables and chairs dotted around the room were mostly already taken. In one corner, a jukebox emitted ear-piercing rock music. In another corner, an eager group of players surrounded a pool table.
All of this was of little consequence to Taylor, because all she could focus on was her quarry—Cade Harper.
He stood behind the bar, a cocktail shaker in one hand and a salt-crusted margarita glass in the other.
Tawny, sun-bronzed hair tapered over his collar, and an unruly tendril dipped across his forehead, seemingly refusing to be controlled. He looked good. Very sexy.
No tuxedo tonight, but a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled back, stretched taut over biceps that flexed and…
Oh, God.
Definitely a bad boy.
Taylor wiped a hand across her brow and her tongue over suddenly parched lips. The temperature had escalated several degrees in one blazing second.
Partially hidden by a potted ficus, heart dancing an erratic beat, she watched Cade.
“Can I help you?”
Taylor spun around. “I…”
