Chapter Two

Tara stirred her cotton candy drink for the fifth time and glanced at her watch. He was late, which meant he wasn’t coming. A sense of relief surged through her. Thank God, now she could escape back to the sanctuary that was her room. It had sounded like a wonderful idea when her co-worker, Ginny, suggested Tara call the exclusive matchmaking agency. Ginny was one of the only people who knew about her relationship history, and her desire to get past her fears. Ginny urged Tara to sign the contract and be honest about what she wanted from her one night with a strange man. The expectations and limits were pre-defined, so Tara felt comfortable. Besides, Ginny had used FANTA C for a hook up and wanted to give her the referral.

It basically sounded like a dream come true. The perfect fantasy for twenty-four hours before she went back to reality. But sitting here in a trendy Vegas bar, waiting for a man she intended to sleep with, was completely freaking her out. She didn't do things like this. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time she had on heels and make-up, let alone know how to flirt or go to bed with a man. She'd tried, though. No reason to blame herself. In moments, she'd rip off these hellish clothes and be in her comfy pj's under the covers. Alone.

Tara reached over to grab her purse, then did one last sweep of the room.

A man towered in the entrance, but his sheer height and width made her skip over him immediately.

Until he met her gaze head on.

Oh, God.

He looked like Thor.

Tara's eyes widened as she stared. He easily reached over six feet, with massive shoulders and muscled arms that seemed able to rip a tree out of the ground. He sported thick bleach-blond hair that tumbled slightly over his shoulders. His face was a contradiction of hard and soft with a sloped jaw, slashed cheekbones, and full luscious kissable lips. His green-gold eyes shimmered with heat and intensity. My God, what that man could probably do with a hammer. He gave off an energy that filtered through the room and hit her body with a jolt of electricity. There wasn't a female within miles that didn't bend to his unconscious male will. The group of sexy young women lounging by the bar had already taken notice as they stopped their conversation to give the man a once over, of course lingering a bit longer at his black leather pants. He topped off the look with a black t-shirt, which accented his power.

Her heart stopped. Then pounded against her chest in something close to a panic attack. It was him. But he’d looked so different in his picture. Less...intimidating? There was no way she'd be able to spend a night with him. He'd tear her apart.

Tara gripped the edge of the table. Breathe. She'd talk to him for a few minutes, explain she changed her mind, and walk away. Who cares if he was a literal walking sex on a stick? No way was she sleeping with someone more attractive than her. With her fat ass and scars, she needed someone to ease her into the experience, someone with gentleness and compassion. Not Thor, who'd burn up her panties in seconds and have her running in terror for the door.

He made his way across the room, in her direction.

Tara cleared her throat and forced herself to look calm. “Tara Denton?” His question was more of a command. She found she had no spit left when she opened her mouth to answer, and managed a squeak.

“Yes.”

“Good. I'm Rick Steele.” Those green eyes gentled as he pulled back the hip blue stool and took a seat. “Don't you like your drink? I'd be happy to get you another.”

Tara looked down at her barely touched concoction and shook her head. “This is fine, thank you.” She took a large sip and swallowed, as if to prove her point. The sweetness was a bit cloying on her tongue, but the vodka burned hot down her throat. Since she rarely drank, she fought a cough, determined to act cool. The slight curve of his lip told her she had failed.

He signaled the waiter over and ordered a beer. She forced her gaze upward, away from those large fingers inches from her own. Fingers that looked talented. The sudden image of those hands gripping her hips as he thrust inside of her caused her cheeks to heat. Tara took a deep breath and discreetly wiped her damp palms on her skirt. “Well, Mr. Steele—”

“Rick.” Another quirk of amusement curved his lips. “I think we should at least be on a first name basis, don't you?”

His drawl reminded her of smoke, sex, and sweat. Tara nodded. “Oh, yes, of course. Rick. Well, I just wanted to let you know it will be perfectly acceptable if you'd like to cancel. I'm not sure if you saw my photo or read my requirements, but I understand if you decide to leave after our drinks.”

He took a long pull of his beer, then pushed away from the table and studied her with interest. “You don't like me?”

Tara sputtered with embarrassment. “Um, no! I like you. I just don't think I'm the type you expected for a, for a…”

“One night stand?” he finished.

She nodded again. “Yes, that's right.” She forced a smile. “Please don't feel bad. I appreciate you meeting me.”

One brow shot up. “That's quite polite of you. But unnecessary.” A wolfish grin transformed his face. A rush of sexual heat squeezed through her blood and settled between her thighs in an ache. “You see, Tara, I'm just counting the minutes until I get you into bed.”

The breath whooshed out of her lungs. She blinked in confusion. Had she heard him correctly? No, he seemed to be staring at her with an open sort of...hunger. Nerves and arousal mingled and fought for dominance. She took another gulp of her drink, and then looked him squarely in the eye.

“Why?”

He laughed. The sound raked across her ears in a caress, the husky notes causing a low throb. Her body revved up like a racecar ready to shoot from the starting gate. She'd specifically requested a gentle, unassuming man who could slowly introduce her body again to the art of lovemaking. How long had it been since she'd desired a man? Most of the time, Tara needed to force herself out of the bodily deep freeze with her vibrator. Men usually caused a subconscious fear to drain away any lingering passion.

But not Rick Steele.

Hell, he'd probably command her body and soul if he got the chance. His dominant personality seeped from his aura, causing her panties to be wet with anticipation. But why on earth would this type of man ever be attracted to her?

She waited with curiosity for his response.

“I think the question is more like why wouldn't I. You have a body to die for, and in a matter of two minutes, you've made me laugh. Let's just say I'm dying to find out how many shades of blue your eyes will turn when I thrust between your thighs.”

Hot color flooded her face. She shook her head. Maybe FANTA C hadn’t told him her background. Damnit, she thought the man meeting her would know a bit about her past and what he faced. Tara gritted her teeth and made herself lift her chin in pride. “I'm sorry, but you must not have heard. I don't, I don't have a good body. Something happened to me and I have several deep scars that are quite… well… ugly. The man I met tonight was supposed to know that.”

Those intense eyes of his turned ice cold. His voice lashed like a whip across tender flesh. “I know about your scars, Tara. I will not allow you to call them ugly again in my presence. Scars are the evidence of survival and life. Now, I'd suggest we continue with a much more pleasant conversation in my suite.”

He dropped a few bills on the table, stood up, and offered his hand.

Seconds ticked by. Tara swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her gut screamed in warning, but the moment she touched his hand, she sensed she'd lose all control over this date, and be led down a path Frost would term the road less travelled.

Tara placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out.