Victoria Dahl - Taking the Heat

“You were kidding,” he sighed, feeling a relief he didn’t understand.

“Oh, I wasn’t kidding. But it’s still funny.”

He blinked several times. “You’re a virgin?”

“Pretty much,” she said, her face suddenly getting serious.

“What does that mean? Can you even be pretty much a virgin?”

“I mean, I’ve done things . On occasion. But I’ve never really done things. Do you get it now? Look at me! I’m a fraud, Gabe. An undesirable, freakish fraud!”

He stared down at one of the most adorable women he’d ever met and wondered if someone had slipped a psychotropic drug into his last beer. “You’re...” He couldn’t think what to say. Oh, my God, you’re a virgin! Or... I don’t know what you’re talking about—you’re totally fuckable! His mind spun. He stayed silent.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have told you. You just have such a nice face. And everything else.”

“Thank you,” he said carefully.

“Maybe you’d like to help with my problem?” He wasn’t sure what she meant until she waggled her eyebrows.

“You mean...with the...?” He pointedly dropped his gaze to a lower point on her body, then realized it was an extremely creepy gesture and snapped his eyes back to her face.

She nodded solemnly. “Yes. With that .” She pointed at the spot he’d just eyed. When he didn’t respond, her nodding slowed, then stopped entirely before she changed it to a negative shake. “No. Right? It’s a no?”

“I don’t... Veronica, I don’t know what to say. You’re really drunk. We shouldn’t even be talking about this.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to let people see the real me.”

He swallowed hard, wishing he had another beer to wet his dry mouth. Or maybe something with caffeine instead of alcohol so he could navigate this minefield more deftly.

“You’re so cute,” she said mournfully, reaching up to slowly pat his cheek. Her fingers lingered, stroking down his beard. “Huh. It’s soft.”

“Thank you?” he ventured.

She looked so startlingly pretty when she grinned at him that Gabe finally snapped out of his shock and stood straight. “Okay. That’s it. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Yay!” she cheered, pumping her fists in triumph.

“Just you,” he clarified. “Not me. You need to sleep this off. This might be a little more of the real you than you meant to reveal.”

“The real me!” Veronica squealed, giggling as he retrieved the keys she’d left in the lock. “Look at her! She’s horrifying!” He set the keys on the table closest to her and closed the door.

“She’s not horrifying. She’s just being a little more candid than she’d like if she were sober.” Gabe gestured toward the open door of her bedroom.

Her hip hit the table when she turned, but she bounced off it and moved toward her bedroom. Gabe let his hands hover near her shoulders in case she started to lean. Once they reached her bedroom, he grabbed the blankets and pulled them back so she could just fall in. She tipped helpfully onto the mattress, then twisted around to look up at him.

“Are you sure you won’t stay?” she asked with the sweetest smile.

“Something tells me you’re not quite lucid,” he said as he took the purse she’d snuggled up to and put it on her nightstand. He snapped the covers over her before he could let himself notice that her dress had ridden up to expose more of those soft thighs now. Soft, until she shifted and tension added muscle definition. “So...” he said, forcing his thoughts off her legs, “I’m going to get you a big glass of water, and then I’ll leave.”

“That makes me sad.” Her bottom lip curved into a luscious little pout that made him want to taste her. “I want you to stay.”

“We can talk when you’re sober.”

“Promise?”

When he nodded, her pout turned to a smile. But then the smile wavered. Her eyes glistened.

“Are you okay?” he asked in alarm.

“Yes. You’re just so nice, Gabe.” She sniffled and a tear escaped. Then another. “And so hot. Just so, so hot.”

His laugh was half horror and half amusement. He handed her a tissue, then escaped to the kitchen to get a glass of water. “Here,” he said when he returned. “I think you’d better drink some of this. Can you sit up?”

She gave him a thumbs-up but didn’t move.

“Come on,” he said, carefully sliding his hand behind her neck to help her raise herself up. She cooperated with another smile that was ruined by her having to sniff back tears several times, but then she dutifully drank a third of the glass while he watched.

He pulled the covers up again when she lay down, then backed away. “Need an alarm?” he asked. It was only ten, but she might sleep for quite a while.

“Nope. I work from home.”

He smiled at her fit of giggles, then raised his hand. “Good night, Dear Veronica. It was a hell of a show.”

She aimed a finger pistol at him and winked as she pulled the trigger. “Thanks, Gabe. Don’t forget your promise.”

“I’ll make you a deal. I won’t forget if you don’t.” He had a very strong feeling that she wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. And an even stronger feeling that she’d be sorry if she did.

He turned off her lights and locked the thumb lock on her front door before he stepped outside, grateful that he had time alone to process what she’d said to him. Still, he was smiling as he hit the sidewalk and headed for his own place a block away. No, Veronica Chandler was nothing like he’d thought she’d be. And he was kind of...thrilled.

CHAPTER FIVE

VERONICA KNEW SHE was hungover before she even opened her eyes, but opening her eyes confirmed the state. Even the weak dawn light filtering past her blinds made her groan in pain. She’d had a hangover only twice before, but there was no mistaking the symptoms. Fuzzy tongue, queasy stomach, pounding headache.

Keeping her eyes closed, she sat slowly up and swung her feet over the bed. The room spun a little, but her stomach didn’t protest too much, thank God. In fact, a glass of cold milk sounded like something she’d pay a million dollars for. Promising herself a reward of returning to bed in just a few minutes, she pushed to her feet and shuffled to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the lights.

After the bathroom, she headed slowly to the fridge, hissing in pain like a vampire when the fridge light burned her retinas. She squeezed her eyes shut and managed to find the milk and get the door closed without having to brave the light again. She gulped down half a glass of milk, popped some ibuprofen and trudged back to her room.

She sank into her mattress with a sigh. “I should take off this dress,” she muttered to no one, but it seemed like a Herculean task. She pulled the covers over her head and slept.

The next time she woke up, the room was much brighter, but her headache was gone. Her body still ached, and her stomach felt hollow, but that was the worst of it. She was bone-dry, though, and when she saw the water on her bedside table, she sat up and gulped the rest of it down.

“God, I’m an idiot,” she moaned. She couldn’t remember how many martinis she’d had, but there’d been at least two before the show, and two was really her limit. She remembered the nice waitress and she remembered sitting with Gabe, and then... Then she’d obviously stumbled home and fallen into bed without even taking off her dress.

Looking down at herself, she winced. There were deep creases all over the pretty blue knit. She’d have to hand wash it and hope it recovered.

Veronica climbed from bed and struggled out of her dress and bra, then dug out yoga pants and a big T-shirt. This time, when she got to the bathroom, she turned on the light and regretted it immediately. Not because of her hangover, but because of what she saw in the mirror.