Janelle Denison - Wild Fantasy

Mitch silently accepted and agreed with Ms. Weston’s philosophy—especially where Nicole was concerned.

“Tomorrow, the competitions begin.” Excitement laced Merrilee’s refined voice. “Just to remind all of you of the rules and guidelines of this charity event, once you’ve chosen a partner by the end of tonight’s festivities, you’ll be paired up with that person for the duration of the week. If you or your team member at any time decides to part ways because of personal differences, or if either of you chooses to decline any of the competitions or events, you both forfeit your place in the contest.”

The strict rule made perfect sense to Mitch and no doubt kept discord to a minimum. It also forced couples to work through problems and differences. In other words, they had to compromise, an ability that was essential to any good, solid relationship.

He glanced at Nicole as Merrilee reiterated a few other basic guidelines, saw his partner’s intense expression, and knew on a gut level she wouldn’t break or bend any of those rules. She’d compromise with him and find some kind of common ground rather than relinquish the contest and prize money. Her perseverance was a strong trait that would work to their advantage.

“In a few days, by process of elimination based on scores, the teams will be narrowed down to the top seven finalists,” Merrilee continued. “From there, the final round of competition will begin. This event will be much more difficult in execution and will require contestants to use mental and physical strategies to ultimately win one of the top three monetary prizes.”

She paused for a moment, her gaze scanning the faces in the crowd in front of her. “But regardless of where you place in this contest, I want everyone to have a good time this week. And now that the band is returning from their break, you can enjoy the rest of the evening, find a partner for the contest and dance the night away.”

Nicole watched the other woman step down from the platform and mingle with her guests and took a few extra seconds to shore up her defenses against the man standing beside her—especially after the way she’d opened up and spilled one of her biggest personal disappointments to him. She’d never shared that story with anyone.

What in the world had come over her? She’d learned at a very early age to keep her feelings under wraps in order to keep her father’s criticism from stinging and her own strength and determination intact. She’d managed the feat successfully through her teenage and adult years, and even through her disastrous breakup with Jonathan. Yet Mitch, with his caring, dark brown eyes and startling tenderness, had managed to stir a deep yearning that threatened all the barricades she’d erected around her emotions. She could feel them crumbling, making room for more of that rare understanding and acceptance he’d offered. And that wouldn’t do at all. Because, ultimately, her surrender would cost her what she she’d worked so hard for and treasured the most: her independence.

“Are you ready to head over to the sign-up table?”

The rich, deep timbre of Mitch’s voice penetrated her thoughts, reaching past the loud buzz of rejuvenated conversation swirling around them. She chanced looking at him and her stomach did a little somersault at how tall, gorgeous and overwhelmingly male he was. Desire unfurled within her, a languorous kind of heat that slowly seeped through her veins and made her weak in the knees.

She wasn’t ready to make a weeklong commitment to Mitch right then, even if it was all for fun and games. She desperately needed a bit more time to regain control between them before she relinquished even a small piece of her freedom for the sake of the charity contest.

“Not quite yet,” she replied, and tossed a frivolous smile his way. “If I’m going to be shackled to you for an entire week as my partner I want to make sure you’re qualified and competent.”

His dark brows winged upward in surprise. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind to find out if I meet your standards?”

She thought for a moment and came up with the ideal way to test his skills, a match she was certain to win, which would put her back in charge mentally, emotionally and physically. “A game of darts in the lounge ought to give me a good indication of just how capable you are.”

She turned to leave the mixer and head down the pathway leading to the lounge near the hotel, but before she could take her second step Mitch caught her arm and stopped her. His hold slipped lower, and the fingers encircling her wrist branded her, spreading a fiery, alluring warmth across her skin. His bold gaze beckoned to feminine instincts and she shivered, wondering how one man could have such a potent affect on her senses.

Instead of letting her hand go as she expected, he clasped their palms together. Skin to skin, he threaded their fingers in an intimate fashion, keeping her close. “What about me testing your abilities?” he countered.

The arousing rumble of his voice made his question sound like a sexual taunt that included all kinds of forbidden, delicious possibilities. Or maybe her mind and body were just so deprived that she was imagining the underlying innuendo in his words. She tried to draw a steady breath and failed to calm the riot of nerves clamoring within her. The brazen, tantalizing stroke of his thumb against her rapid pulse and the tenacity blazing in his eyes didn’t bode well for the outcome of her latest challenge.

“You’re just going to have to trust me and my abilities.” She shrugged nonchalantly, though she was feeling anything but indifferent to him. “Or we could let our dart game speak for itself.”

Grinning, he dipped his head, and a lock of sable hair fell across his forehead. “That hardly seems fair, since I’m a lousy dart player.” No machismo on his part, just endearing honesty, and damn if that didn’t appeal to her. “How about we test our skills together out on the dance floor, instead?”

THE VERY LAST THING Nicole wanted to do was end up in Mitch’s arms, surrounded by his virile heat, his intoxicating scent, and his blatant masculinity. He gave her little choice in the matter and no time to issue a protest that wouldn’t draw the unwanted attention of other people. Still holding her hand securely in his, he tugged her toward the parquet dance floor. Just her unfortunate luck, at that moment the band ended the fast tune they’d been playing and eased into a slow, romantic song one of the guests had specifically requested.

A heartbeat later she found herself wrapped in Mitch’s solid embrace with her own hands gripping his arms in startled surprise. Any desperate ideas she might have had about stepping back to keep a few inches between them were quickly banished when he slipped his arm tight around her waist and pulled her firmly against his hard, muscular body. Automatically, she tensed, but her rigid posture did nothing to dissuade him or ward off her own awareness of him.

Every inch of Mitch seemed to be touching some part of her. His shoulders were incredibly broad, and her breasts crushed enticingly against his wide chest, making her nipples peak and harden and ache at the heated contact. Her belly aligned with his, and somehow, someway, he’d effortlessly managed to slide his jean-clad thigh between hers in a way that was completely natural to the kind of slow dance they were engaged in.

The gradual pressure he exerted there was deliciously exquisite. To her dismay, an insistent throb pulsed low and deep. The uninhibited beat of the music dictated the sensual rhythm of their bodies, heightening her own longing for something more carnal and forbidden with Mitch. The assault on her senses was almost more than she could bear, and she struggled to keep a tight rein on her physical response.