After their little tete-a-tete on the dance floor, Tess hadn't seen Wilder again for well over an hour...which was just fine with her. He was probably shoving his hand down his sexy date's dress in some dark corner. That made her doubly glad she'd never fallen for his moves.
And....She sighed. It was almost midnight, and she hadn't found Lewis anywhere. Texts to him had gone unanswered. She guessed it would be pretty darn hard to kiss the guy if he wasn't even present, so she figured the bet was off...even though she'd pretty much decided she was going to kiss him this year. Why not?
Annabelle seemed to be missing, and Grace was in what looked like some heavy conversation with her two dates. Or maybe they weren't dates at all. For all she knew, Grace could be in the middle of some FBI stakeout and the two hotties were her team.
So neither of her sisters would notice if she kissed Lewis or not. She was off the hook. They were all off the hook.
"Where are you going, young lady?" From nowhere, a clawlike hand grabbed Tess's arm. "It's nearly midnight."
"Aunt Helen." Tess tried to keep her lack of enthusiasm from being too obvious. "I was just...going to check the coat room over here to see-"
"Don't you have a handsome young man to kiss? What about the one you were just dancing with? He looks like he'd be able to take out that pansy you married, and with one blasted hand behind his back." She spoke with relish, her silvery beaded handbag dancing violently from the handle of her cane.
"Vance? Oh, he's not exactly my type. Besides, I think he and Brooks and the other cops are going to get called into work. That supposed ice storm is really happening," Tess replied, and at that moment noticed a glint on the floor near the coat room. She bent and picked up a breathtakingly lovely evening shoe. It looked almost like a glass slipper-but it was even more gorgeous than any Cinderella had ever worn. "A Louboutin," she breathed. "What on earth is this doing here? And where's the other one?"
"What's that?" Aunt Helen screeched. "A lobo-what?" She stamped her cane on the ground. "Don't know how anyone could walk in those durned things. Heel must be six inches tall!"
"Oh, but it's worth it," Tess said, slipping her foot in just to try it out. Gorgeous. And expensive. Whoever lost it would definitely be wanting it back.
But she didn't want to leave it where it might be seen-or stolen. So she slipped it behind the coat room entrance, tucking it around the corner on the floor, and turned to attend to her great-aunt who was still babbling on about something.
"What about that Wilder boy?" Aunt Helen was demanding. At the top of her lungs. Thank goodness they weren't in the ballroom, but instead were at the coat room. "You've always had a thing for him since you were serving him beer when you all were too durned young to be drinking it!"
"What?" Tess couldn't believe the old bat could remember that far back, and in such detail.
"Oh, don't think I didn't notice that, Tessy girl. I've helped solve murders, you know. I see things even Adrian Monk wouldn't notice." Aunt Helen stomped with her cane again, and her evening bag slid to the floor.
Like the well-trained niece she was, Tess stooped to pick it up and noticed it bore a marked resemblance to her own handbag...which reminded her she'd left it on the table behind the band. "We've been friends for a long time," she said. "But it's never been anything more than that."
"Hmph." Aunt Helen clearly did not believe her, even though Tess was speaking the truth. "Seems to me, missy, you'd be better off with a man who's been in love with you for ten years than that philandering sneak you married."
Tess gaped at her. She wasn't certain which part of her comment she found more objectionable-and she certainly didn't have any idea how to respond that wouldn't get her in trouble with Mom. Just went to show that even eagle-eyed Aunt Helen was wrong sometimes.
"I'm not gonna tell you I had a chance to be married, Teresa-b'cause I didn't. I never found a man could keep up with me, or one I respected enough. Back in my day, we was told to be quiet and let the man make the durned decisions. Take the lead. Have the career. Pah! I wasn't ever going to let that happen. But a pretty girl like you shouldn't have the same trouble I did-men're different now." She wagged a crooked finger in her face, her dark eyes gleaming furiously.
"Right," Tess said, nodding, trying to keep her expression bland. Back away slowly. "It's almost midnight, Aunt Helen. And it looks like something's going on in there-look, Grace is up onstage. With Dad." Oh boy.
Tess's heart squeezed. Even with two dates her sister couldn't make it happen? Poor Grace.
"What? Where's her date? Didn't she have two men here with her? Can't you durned Devine girls do anything right?" Aunt Helen stomped off as fast as she could go with her handbag thumping against her cane.
Tess heaved a sigh of relief and turned...just in time to see Lewis Kampmueller rush through the door of the Club. He looked wild and a little mussed.
"You're...here," she said, looking at him curiously. He looked...different.
"Yeah." He seemed to be slightly addled-but that wasn't unusual for Lewis. If he wasn't coding an app in his head, he was trying to remember something he wasn't supposed to have forgotten. "Uh...."
"Just in time for midnight. I should have known you wouldn't miss it," she said grimly. She glanced around the corner and saw Grace, still onstage next to Dad. Alone.
And she looked at Lewis. "It's less than two minutes till midnight. I think you should kiss me tonight."
He looked at her, looked around, and glanced toward the ballroom, where everyone was gathered. It was noisy-boos, shouts, catcalls, and the sound of clinking glasses as the waiters distributed champagne flutes. "Uh...."
"One minute!" someone called from the next room.
"I-" Lewis began, and Tess took matters into her own hands.
This is for Grace. She stepped toward him, grabbing his upper arms-noticing they were surprisingly firm and muscular-and said, "Let's just kiss each other and be done-"
"Why break your streak now, Tess?" A drawling voice from behind had her whirling from Lewis. "After all, it's been ten years. You've never lost the bet yet."
From the next room: Ten!
"Oh, hi Johnny," Lewis said as casually as if they'd just run into him at the store.
Nine!
But Wilder was looking at Tess. His eyes were iron gray. Determined and cool. But his voice was still low and even. "It's time to end this curse. And the best way to end it is...the way it began."
Eight!
"Nicely," Wilder said, advancing toward her, "and neatly."
Her heart was thumping wildly and she was hardly aware when Lewis ducked away, out of sight. The only thing she was aware of was Wilder. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered, and very cool. In control. Her knees wobbled.
Seven!
"But what about your sexy d-"
The rest of her words were cut off as he curled his hand behind her head and pulled her to him, almost lazily...almost as if he knew she wouldn't resist. Then he covered her lips hungrily, just roughly enough to let her know he was in charge.
The kiss-deep and long and slick-was enough to make her toes curl, her knees buckle, her world contract into that moment of hot, sensual onslaught. Because it wasn't gentle or tender...it was an arrogant kiss, a demanding one. A thorough one.
She opened her eyes when he pulled away and Tess realized she'd grasped Wilder by the front of his shirt and was holding on for dear life. She was breathing heavily and her lips throbbed. Her whole body was hot and shivery and alive.
"Wow," she breathed-and was amazed she even managed that.
"For the last time: Happy New Year, Tess." He brushed her cheek with a gentle finger, then turned and walked away...just as the next room erupted with the sound of "Auld Lang Syne."
"Happy New Year!"
She stared after him. Holy crap. What have I done?