Oh, Naughty Night! Read online

  Suddenly, Viv’s eyes went even rounder, and her mouth fell open. “Oh, my God, the front half is even better than the rear.”

  Lulu spun around on her seat again, wanting a better look. The hot stranger had turned toward them. She saw his face, noted the features—the green eyes with laugh lines beside them, the dimple in one cheek, the small cleft in his chin.

  Confusion raced through her. The square, slightly grizzled jaw did not compute, nor did the wide, oh-so-kissable mouth, the flashing green eyes, the utter, rugged handsomeness of the man.

  All unfamiliar...yet very familiar indeed.

  “No way,” she mumbled. “It just can’t be.”

  She stared and stared. And gradually, the truth forced its way into her consciousness.

  She might not recognize the body, but she knew that face, that smile, that dimple. She could no longer deny that the sexy ghost was, indeed, Chaz, the boy-next-door. The one she’d tormented, the one who’d ignored her until she’d been as rotten as possible to get his attention, the one she’d hoped to meet again here in D.C. if only so she could make up for being such a little snot when they were kids. But she needed to work up to it and wasn’t prepared to start tonight. Unfortunately the mask probably didn’t hide enough of her face that he wouldn’t recognize her.

  It was like some kind of morality play or Aesop’s fable. She’d been the mean girl to a rather forgettable boy, and Chaz Browning had grown up to be the hottest, most unforgettable man she’d ever laid eyes on.

  “It’s him. It’s really him.”

  “Your old friend?” asked Amelia.

  “Something like that.” Friend wasn’t the word she’d use.

  “He’s totally checking you out.”

  Lulu shook off her shock and paid attention again, realizing that Viv was right. Chaz was eyeing her, a smile tugging at the corners of that incredible mouth. So maybe he had a short memory and didn’t recall that he had reason to hate her guts. Or maybe he’d just grown up and looked back at their childhood days through a softer lens, as she had.

  She gave him a bright, sunny smile back, shoving away her sexual interest, forcing herself to remember this was an old frenemy. No way did she want him to know she’d been drooling over him.

  He started to come over, probably to say hello, ask how she was settling in to city life, maybe make small talk about the old days. She glanced away, focusing on her drink, running her fingertips over the condensation on the glass, feigning a nonchalance she definitely did not feel.

  “Hi,” a man’s voice said a moment later. It was Chaz’s voice, with many years’ worth of maturity added on. He stood behind her, and she felt the warmth of his big, broad body.

  Willing her cheeks not to pinken and her voice not to quiver, she glanced up at him. “Hi, yourself.”

  “Happy Halloween.”

  “Same to you.”

  He gestured toward her glass. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re full-up. How’s the special?”

  “Remember the taste of kids’ cherry-flavored cough syrup?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That tasted better.”

  “Think I’ll stick to beer.”

  “Good choice,” she said. “I like your costume.”

  He glanced down at his loose cotton T-shirt and those wickedly worn jeans. “Guy next door?”

  Huh. Funny. “I meant the ghost. Why’d you take it off?”

  “I’m not so great with scissors. I cut the eye holes too small and couldn’t see where the hell I was going.”

  She laughed. Chaz had never had much hand-eye coordination. But she’d bet he could do some utterly amazing things with those hands now, and the heavily-lashed green eyes were enough to make a girl melt.

  “Still a fan of the homemade costume, huh?”

  “My mother would kill me if I got a store-bought one.”

  Yeah. She remembered. Their moms had coordinated outfits every holiday, though they couldn’t always please everybody. One year, when she’d wanted to be Sailor Moon, she’d had to go as a stupid Power Ranger instead because it was Chaz’s favorite show. She’d even had to be the yellow ranger, since his spoiled sister had called dibs on the pink one.

  She’d repaid him by stealing every one of the chocolate bars from his trick-or-treat bag and replacing them with raisins.

  Lord, she’d been such a little terror.

  Chaz hadn’t been the only one with a pesky younger sibling—her brother was his sister’s age. The four of them had grown up together, squabbling, competing. It hadn’t been all-out war, though, until their siblings started dating in high school—and then had a messy breakup. She wasn’t sure Lawrence had ever got over Sarah dumping him. But that had happened after Chaz had left home. He might not even realize that his sister was a heartbreaking butthead.

  “I had no time to figure out something more elaborate,” he explained. “I only decided to come here about an hour ago.”

  “That’s some serious last-minute costume design,” she said.

  “Hey, cut me some slack. I just got back into town this morning after a long overseas trip. I hadn’t even remembered it was Halloween until I got home and saw the decorations. Good thing I had a clean sheet in my linen closet.”

  “And good thing it was plain white and didn’t have Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles all over it.”

  He barked a laugh, raising a brow, as if surprised she’d remembered those sheets or those turtles he’d been so obsessed with.

  “I think I’ve outgrown my mutant turtle days.”

  “Strictly into human ninjas now, huh?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Yeah, that’s it. Unfortunately, I haven’t found a California-king sheet set with little black-cloaked ninja dudes on them.”

  Mmm. Big bed. For a big guy. With big hands. And a big...

  “I’m afraid I’m stuck with boring, non-decorative sheets.”

  She swallowed and forced her mind back to light small talk and away from thoughts of his sheets. Or his bed. Him in his bed... “I’ll keep an eye out for ninjas for you. Unless you’d prefer Transformers.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He grinned and the earth rocked a bit. “Though, if you see black satin, let me know. I might be tempted to play ninja.”

  She gulped, wondering when on earth he’d gotten so damned confident. He was easygoing, sexy, masculine and totally comfortable in a room full of people. No longer the male wallflower, the kid whose shoelaces were tied together by bullies, or who got picked last for the baseball team because he’d dropped a fly ball and lost the big game in fourth grade.

  No. He was all sexy, powerful, enticing, grown-up man. And she just had no idea what to think about that.

  “You must be awfully tired,” Viv said, interjecting herself into the playful conversation. “After traveling all day.”

  Funny, Lulu had almost forgotten she was there. Amelia, too. Chaz, while offering the other two women a polite smile, hadn’t paid a moment of attention to either of them. That made Lulu feel better—her old childhood nemesis/friend hadn’t come over merely to get Lulu to introduce him to Viv, who usually cast other females in the shade. Lulu wasn’t sure whether it was because Viv was so beautiful, or because she was such a stone-cold bitch to most men that they felt challenged to break through the ice. Her costume, a sexy devil, seemed more than a little appropriate. As did Amelia’s, who was dressed as a cute rag doll, complete with a yarn wig she’d made herself using supplies from her craft shop.

  Hmm. She wondered if Chaz would say she, too, was appropriately costumed for her personality.

  “I guess I am tired,” he admitted.

  “I’ll say. Sounds like all you can think of is your bed,” Viv said, her smile still knowing, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

  Chaz did
n’t nibble at the bait. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice he was being flirted with. “I probably shoulda crashed, but I was in need of some American holiday fun. There’s not a single piece of candy corn in Pakistan. So I decided to come out to combat the jet lag.”

  “And eat candy corn?” Lulu asked, unhappy Viv was working her vixen magic on her old friend. Well, her old something.

  “Exactly. Have any on you?”

  “I’m all out. I guess you’ll have to trick-or-treat through the neighborhood on your way home.”

  “I forgot my sack.”

  “Then you’re just out of luck.”

  He sighed. “Day late and a treat short. Story of my life.”

  Yeah. Because of mean girls who stole his candy bars.

  She didn’t bring that up, though. No point reminding him of her antics if there was any chance in hell he’d forgotten them.

  As if. That’d be like Batman forgetting the Joker’s antics. Once an arch nemesis, always an arch nemesis.

  Not that she’d ever really considered Chaz her nemesis, arch or otherwise. But he might have one or two reasons to think she was. Including a crooked tailbone.

  “Well, pull up a chair and join us,” said Viv, scooting over to make room for him. She cast Lulu a piercing look, waiting for her to officially introduce them.

  She was about to, but he cut her off.

  “Actually, I just wanted to see if you’d like to dance,” he said, staring down at Lulu, his gaze wavering between friendly and intense. She had to wonder if he, too, had been shocked by the changes nine years had wrought. She didn’t much resemble the stringy-haired, braces-wearing seventeen-year-old he probably remembered from his high school graduation party. The one when she’d pushed him into the swimming pool, fully clothed, because he’d called her flat-chested.

  To be fair, she had been a late bloomer. Of course, he hadn’t really needed to point that out in front of all their friends and family.

  She sat up a little straighter and thrust that no-longer-flat chest out the tiniest bit.

  His gaze shifted. He noticed. She noticed him noticing.

  “Well?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “What do you say?”

  “Uh...you really want to dance? With me?”

  She was pretty sure the only time they’d ever danced together was when they’d had to be square-dancing partners in gym class in middle school. It hadn’t gone well. Holding hands with Chaz had been way too weird for her twelve-year-old self. Her hands had gotten sweaty, her breath short, and she’d had the strangest fluttering in her stomach.

  She now suspected what the sweating and fluttering had been all about. She had liked Chaz’s blushes, despite what she’d said to her mother. But back then, never wanting to admit such a thing, she’d convinced herself that holding hands with Chaz Browning was enough to make her want to throw up.

  So she’d done what any bratty twelve-year-old would do. She’d stuck out her foot and tripped him during their do-si-do.

  Little bitch.

  “You know how to dance, right?” Another green twinkle—how had she never noticed he had the most interesting golden streaks that cut through the irises, looking like starbursts? “I mean, it’s pretty easy—you just try to find the beat in the music and move around to it.”

  She licked her lips, hearing the band finishing “Time Warp,” which immediately made her think of pelvic thrusts—not something she should be thinking about when it came to Chaz. Luckily the musicians segued right into a torchy version of “Witchcraft.” That somehow seemed appropriate, given her costume, and the fact that she felt as if someone had cast a spell on her. The song was slower, jazzier, and would necessitate close-up dancing, with hands and bodies in direct contact. And though her mind decided that was even riskier than pelvic thrusts, her legs launched her out of her chair immediately.

  “Sure.”

  She let him take her hand and pull her toward the crowded dance floor. When he grabbed her hips and pulled her close, she swallowed hard, trying to maintain her smile. Could he feel her crazily-beating heart or see the way her pulse thrummed in her throat? And was there any way in hell he didn’t know that some of her most female parts were standing at attention as their bodies brushed together?

  Lulu waited for him to say something—Welcome to D.C., How’s the new place?, How are your folks? But he remained silent, merely moving his thigh between her legs as they swayed.

  Lord have mercy. Though she’d often imagined having Chaz’s throat between her hands so she could strangle him for saying something that totally pissed her off, she’d never fantasized about having any part of him between her thighs.

  He’d been gone from her life before she’d realized stomach flutters and thigh clenching were definite signs of lust.

  But now her body was reacting to him in a way she’d never allowed her mind to. There was no mistaking her reaction for anything except excitement. Her palms were sweating and her whole body felt hot and sticky, as though if she didn’t get her clothes off, she would melt right into a puddle of want in the middle of the dance floor.

  God, he was so big and strong compared to the boy she’d known. Powerful, male, appealing enough to stop hearts. His chest was so broad it could be used as a life raft. She couldn’t help twining her fingers in his longish hair, tousled from the sheet, shaggy from a few months’ travel.

  The truth slammed into her, hard and life-changing.

  She wanted him. Badly. Lulu wanted to go to bed with Chaz Browning and see if all the years of angry tension between them could be erased by erotic tension.

  If only he were some random guy she’d just met, and the baggage of an entire childhood of fighting and competing, not to mention family drama, didn’t stand between them. If only he were just a sexy stranger like Schaefer, albeit one with charm, easy wit and personality.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t a stranger. Despite how closely he held her, Chaz couldn’t possibly have forgotten her childhood shenanigans and his own disdain toward her. There was no way he’d look at her as anything but the bane of his youth and the scorn of his adulthood. Plus there was the family-connection burden of looking after her. His email had said he’d promised his mom he’d do exactly that once he was back in the country, like she was some high schooler on a field trip to the big bad city. An inconvenience. A brat.

  No, anything remotely resembling a sexual connection between her and Chaz was simply out of the question. She was just going to have to go home and get cozy with her vibrator, or say to hell with it and bang the boring guitar player. Anything to avoid letting Chaz realize he’d affected her so deeply. That would be worse than the sweaty hands/square dancing incident.

  “The music’s good tonight,” he finally said. “Schaefer and his band have improved since the last time I heard them play.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah, he’s sort of a regular in the neighborhood and he was a soloist for a while. But he was a bit of a hippie. He’d get into trouble, sneaking out of upbeat background music and into some depressing, sixties, psychedelic-mushroom ballad once in a while. Talk about a mood killer. The bar owners threatened to ban him.”

  “Do you know his first name?”

  Chaz grinned. “I do.”

  “What is it?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. He made me promise.”

  “Must be a doozy.”

  He nodded slowly. “Let’s just say...it’s appropriate.”

  “Can’t I bribe it out of you?”

  “What’ll you give me?”

  “All the Tootsie Rolls from my goodie bag?”

  “I’m not interested in candy,” he told her, that half smile lingering on a mouth so kissable it made her own go dry.

  “I thought you were jon
esing for candy corn.”

  “Maybe I’d rather taste something else sweet.”

  Whoa. The twinkle in his eye and the flash of that dimple took the light comment and brought it up to flirtatious—maybe even suggestive—level. It was totally unlike anything he’d ever said to her. She had to wonder how many drinks he’d had, or if he’d been drinking them on an empty, jet-lagged stomach. She just didn’t believe a sober Chaz would’ve made that kind of comment—not to her, anyway.

  “Like what?” she asked, her tone just as flirty and suggestive, calling his bluff. She knew he’d put a stop to the conversation any second, but couldn’t deny she was having fun while it lasted.

  “That drink left your lips looking very red and delicious.”

  Good God, was he going to kiss her? The way his gaze focused in on her face said he was considering it, and her heart pounded in her chest. It was crazy. They hadn’t even played doctor as kids, much less snuck even the most innocent of kisses. But he was eyeing her mouth as if he was parched and needed to positively drink from her.

  “I have to admit, this conversation is taking me by surprise,” she said, hearing the breathiness in her own voice and wondering what he would make of it.

  “You can’t be surprised that I think you’re beautiful.”

  “I most certainly am,” she said with a forced smile. Chaz, the boy who’d once called her a soul-sucking leech, thought she was beautiful?

  Yeah. He had to be drunk.

  “Every man here thinks it,” he said, sounding totally serious. “I saw you the minute I walked in and couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Glancing down at her body, he smiled wickedly. “You surprised me. I always assumed witches were old and ugly.”

  “Only bad witches are ugly,” she pointed out, catching his Wizard of Oz reference.

  “And you’re a very good witch?”

  “Some would debate that. Maybe I’m a little of both.”

  “Which witch are you tonight?”

  “Which witch do you hope I am?”

  His green eyes glittered under the dance floor lights. “Maybe a little of both.”