Victoria Dahl - Taking the Heat

She got one swig before Gabe took it back and finished it off. “Come on, Dear Veronica, let’s go.”

Even though she collapsed onto the table with laughter, she eventually nodded. “Okay. Let’s go to my place.”

“I didn’t mean...”

“Yeah, believe me, I know.” Veronica pushed to her feet. “See? Steady as a tree.”

In fact, she was swaying a little. If she was a tree, she was more a willow than an oak. “How many of these did you have?” he asked.

“One before the show. One during. Then...two more?”

“In the space of an hour?” Gabe reevaluated his options. “How far away do you live?”

“Only three blocks away. I’m centrally located.” That set off a bout of giggling that had Gabe smiling as he wrapped her arm around his.

“Are you okay in those heels?”

“Sure. I had to learn to walk in them in New York. You know how it is. Spike heels everywhere. I bet you loved that, didn’t you? Men love that.”

He looked down at her as he opened the door of the bar. She was smiling as she stepped into the night.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” he finally said.

“Just be honest. I write an advice column. I know what guys like. You can’t scare me.”

“Okay, then. Women’s legs look amazing in heels. Your legs look amazing in heels. But nothing beats the sight of a woman in hiking boots on the trail ahead. I could watch that for hours.”

“And have?”

“Only with permission, of course.”

She bumped him with her shoulder as they walked. “Does that mean you’re an ass man, Gabe MacKenzie?”

“I—” he ran through all the possible responses in his head and decided discretion was the better part of ass valor “—am not going to answer that.”

“You can tell me. Feel free to spill all your kinks. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve heard.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t.” He looked around. “Are we even walking in the right direction? Where do you live?”

“Oh, shit,” she muttered, then spun him around. “It’s this way. I’m sorry. I haven’t been this tipsy in a really long time.”

He thought she was way past tipsy, but damned if it wasn’t adorable on her. “So how does one become a professional advice columnist?”

“Overbearing father,” she muttered, then shook her head. “I was a copy editor, but I also helped out with an advice column at the Village Voice . Screening letters, proofing the column, that sort of thing. When I told my dad I was moving back to Jackson, I suppose he wanted to help. He’s friends with the owner of the Jackson paper, and Dad inflated my experience a little. So here I am. A fraud who gives advice.”

“Well, you’re great at it, so how could you be a fraud?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Does someone else write the column for you?”

She laughed, bumping into him again, her thigh rubbing against his and reminding him of how naked her legs were. “No,” she said. “I write it all by myself. That I can do, at least.”

“Which was your favorite column to write?”

“Hmm.” They stepped from the sidewalk to the boardwalk and Veronica seemed to get distracted by the sound of her heels on the wooden boards for a moment. Then she shook her head and looked up again. “Last year a mother wrote in to slut-shame the woman her adult son was dating. She said that this harlot was luring her son with free sex.”

“Oh, God,” Gabe groaned. “Poor guy.”

“I know. We can only guess at how much he was suffering. Anyway, I answered that letter, telling her that if she was disappointed in the behavior, then maybe she hadn’t raised her son very well. I also said there was nothing wrong with sex and to leave the girl alone. Pretty standard stuff. Except that I became friends with the harlot later.”

“Ha! Seriously?”

“It’s a small town. These things happen. I probably know the guy who fell in love with his sex doll, too, but please don’t tell me if it’s you.”

“I’d rather not talk about it, anyway,” Gabe said. “It’s over.”

“Oh, no! Did it fizzle out?”

He shrugged. “We tried to patch it up a couple of times.”

She tugged him to a stop, then leaned against a street lamp, wheezing with laughter.

He grinned as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “You okay?”

She shook her head, still struggling for air past her hysterical laughter.

“Was it that funny, or is it just the alcohol?”

“Both!” she gasped. Then groaned, “God, I must be a mess.”

He looked over her tearstained face and the mascara smudges beneath her eyes. “Nah. You look great.”

“Really?” She swiped at her pink nose.

“Really. Now, where are we going?”

“Right here,” she said, gesturing toward a three-story condo complex.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the lamppost to walk her toward the entry. “I only live one block over.”

“I’m not surprised. There are a lot of rentals around here.” She dug her keys from her bag and led the way to one of the ground-floor doors.

“I won’t come in,” he said for clarity’s sake. Even if he might have wanted to, she was way too drunk for him to feel right about it.

She stabbed her keys toward the doorknob several times. “Don’t worry. I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“Okay, because I— What? Why would you think that?”

She waved her free hand and the keys jagged two inches to the right. “I’m not that girl. I get it.”

“What girl?”

“You know.” She finally got the key into the hole, and when the lock turned, she gave a little cheer. She pushed the door open and then lurched in before spinning back to him. “I’m not going to try to jump your gorgeous bones, Gabe. You’re safe with me. I’m sexual kryptonite.”

“What?” he asked again, even more confused.

She reached down to pull one of her high-heeled boots off, but the other ankle wobbled dangerously.

He jumped forward to grab her elbow so she could pull off the boot without falling. She smiled up at him and took off the other boot. He was surprised by how much shorter she was without them. He could now see straight down her dress. The view was lovely and so was her lacy black bra. He stepped back quickly.

She stared up at him. “It’s true,” she whispered.

“What’s true?” he asked.

She watched him for a long moment, then leaned a little closer. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he said, not sure what he was hoping to hear her say. Whatever he’d expected, her next words were not it.

“All that advice I give? All of the wise insights on love and sex that I helpfully hand out to strangers?” Her voice was getting softer.

Gabe put his hands on her shoulders. He wanted to lean down and kiss her. Her mouth looked so plump and her eyes so happy. But he couldn’t. Not tonight. “Mmm-hmm,” he murmured, using his hands to hold her steady instead of pulling her close.

“That’s the biggest lie of all, Gabe. I’ve never even done it.”

“Done what?” he asked, distracted by the pretty way her neck arched so she could watch him.

She moved even closer, going up on tiptoe to bring her mouth toward his neck. “Fucking,” she whispered.

For a moment, his brain stuttered over the provocative word, guessing that she was trying to turn him on. Not that he’d act on it tonight, but it was a nice problem to have. Then the rest of the conversation caught up and overrode his libido.

He stood straight. His hands gripped her shoulders with more strength. “You what ?”

Instead of reacting with the seriousness he thought the moment deserved, Veronica burst into laughter. “You should see your face!” she chortled, pointing at his face in case he’d forgotten where he’d left it. “Oh, my God, you’re so cute!”