~ Bet On Love ~

by

Cheryl Pereira

Present Day, London

El’s headache worsened with each passing moment. The heavy throb of the music pounded her temples. Psychedelic strobe lights wove across the large rectangular room and hurt her eyes. The smoky, dark atmosphere of the club and the sweaty bodies all gyrating to the indiscernible beat of the music made her want to throw up.

She grit her teeth and grabbed her glass of white wine. Someone jostled her arm and she swore. Couldn’t even drink in peace. Tossing the contents of her glass down her throat she scanned the crush of bodies for her sister. Where the hell was Sin?

How had she let her younger sister talk her into coming out pubbing? You did it because you were lonely, snapped her corrupted conscience. At the grand old age of twenty-nine, she felt old and jaded. Not to mention frustrated as all hell.

“Having fun?” shouted her sister Sin in her ear, appearing out of the crowd in front of her. “Come on, El. Let’s dance.”

“I’ve got a headache--I’m going home,” she yelled back. Someone dug their elbow in her back and she winced. “Ouch! Dammit it, how the hell is this fun?”

“It is--you just have to be pleasantly drunk,” shot back Sin with a cheeky grin. Her red corkscrew curls bounced with every shake of her head. Dressed in skintight black leather pants and a fire engine red halter top, Sin looked as tempting as Eve.

“I am a little tipsy, but not drunk,” admitted El. “Besides, this is torture enough.”

“You wanted to have fun.”

“Yes, I did,” El shot back and filled her wine glass with more white wine. “But watching people dance isn’t fun and having my toes mashed is not my idea of dancing.”

“Okay, let’s make it fun.” Sin scanned the cavernous room. “Right! I’ll bet you a hundred pounds you can’t pick a guy up and take him home with you.”

“You’re nuts.” She yanked her sister’s hair and grinned. “With all kinds of diseases now, I’m not picking up any stranger and taking him home.”

“I know you won’t, El.” Sin sighed and took a swig from her beer. “The point is, I don’t think you have the nerve to ask any guy here if you could even buy him a drink. You’ve become that stuffy.”

“I am not stuffy.” Outrage gushed through her veins and dulled the headache. “I can pick up guys--that I can do.”

Sin smirked at her knowingly.

El gulped down the glass of wine and straightened her spine. “I’ll up the bet to five hundred. Not only will I get a guy to buy me a drink but I’ll have him eating out of my hand.”

“Right! That I want to see.” Sin clapped her on the back and burst out laughing. “You’re on, Sis. Go get him.” She shoved El in the direction of the heaving crowd. “I’ll be right here if you chicken out.”

El blinked as the sea of bodies seemed to lunge and ebb toward her. She couldn’t back down. Some devil on her shoulder wouldn’t let the sensible El out. She shot her manically grinning sister a glance and straightened her spine. Right! One man required to try and banish the image of the one man who got away. Declan Hawke.

The thought halted her footsteps. Would she ever forget him? El shook her head. Enough. Four years was a long time to think of somebody. To pine for somebody. Especially, a married somebody she hadn’t seen in those four years.

She skirted the packed dance floor and walked to the upper level bar. Things were quieter there somehow. Couples occupied every nook and cranny, snogging to their libidos content. El set her jaw and headed straight for the bar. There is no way in hell she could win this bet. Where in the world were all the single men?

She hopped on to a vacant bar stool and asked for a tequila shot. Dutch courage. She needed Dutch courage. The bored bartender slapped down her drink and turned away. El grabbed the glass. The urge to sip it shot through her. Don’t be silly! Just have it like it’s supposed to be had.

Without another thought, she gulped down the fiery liquid and licked the salt off the back of her hand. Fire burned a path to her stomach and her eyes watered. She took the wedge of lime and sucked the sour juices from it, desperate to show she’d done this before to anyone who cared to watch.

“Mmmm, can I get you another shot?” a deep, baritone voice sizzled in her ear.

She swung her head around and bashed her head in his nose. “Ouch!”

A guy with black, Michelangelo curls flopping on his forehead staggered back with a groan. “A no would have sufficed,” he muttered.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. You startled me.” Hot blood pumped a path up her cheeks. “It wasn’t a brush off.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He let go of his nose and winked. “Then it was worth the pain. Can I buy you another shot?”

El trampled on the swarm of butterflies flitting inside her belly and nodded. The bet. Remember the damn bet! Her eyes traveled the length of his lean body clad in plain khaki chinos and a denim shirt.

Long legs, beautiful tight butt, wide shoulders and a flat stomach. Her mind continued to take his inventory while he ordered their drinks. Square jawed, thin lips except the fuller lower lip hinted at sensuality. Deep grooves bracketed his cheeks. They added to his chiseled good looks a certain mix of mischief and charm.

El like the package and it wouldn’t hurt to flaunt him at her sister. Stuffy, my ass!

He tossed her a glance and grinned. “Like what you see?”

“Yep, especially the butt,” she giggled, throwing caution to the winds, determined to enjoy herself for once without analyzing the situation to bits. His short bark of laughter and the faint blush crawling up his cheeks released her nervous tension. For now he was her masterpiece. Her Michelangelo.

She winked and grasped the second shot of tequila placed before her. “Shall we do the honors?”

“By all means.” He touched his glass to hers and tossed the contents down in one swallow.

El followed suit.

He grimaced.

She squeezed her eyes shut as once again the alcohol torched a path down her stomach. She opened her eyes to lick the salt off the back of her hand and gasped.

The stranger held the back of his hand out to her. A thin line of salt lay on the vee between his pointer finger and thumb.

“Go on--lick it,” he whispered, eyes dark as ebony bore a hole through her.

Desire and heat beckoned to her. Her nipples unfurled, reacting to the wicked promises in his eyes.

“Just promise me you won’t bite.”

Power surged through her. Tingles shot down her spine. She leaned forward and licked her lips. She didn’t take her eyes off this man. His jaw hardened and his ragged breaths intoxicated her. She let her tongue peek through her lips and wet them with deliberate intent. Excitement gushed through her veins as the action drew his heated gaze. She leaned forward and allowed her lips to feather over the line of salt.

His fingers trembled.

She flicked her tongue out and licked the line of salt on the vee between his fingers and thumb.

He groaned and clutched the bar counter. “Damn woman! Your tongue should be declared lethal.”

El licked her lips and straightened. “I guess now would be a good time to ask your name,” she said, shaky and breathless all at once.

He shuffled closer to her and leaned down. “If I tell you I might have to kiss you.”

“Oh good! It’s just as well--I haven’t been kissed in a while.” She closed her eyes as the words popped out. Stupid woman! Now he’s going to think you’re an absolute floozy. She dropped her head and glanced at her entwined fingers resting in her lap.

His fingers brushed her cheeks and raised her head with a hand at her chin. “I’d be honored to rectify the problem.” He smiled with impish delight. “We just need to do one thing first.” He held her hand and pulled her off the stool. “Come with me.”

El didn’t budge. She liked him but she wasn’t just going to waltz away with him. Not without getting his name.

“What’s the matter?”

She opened her mouth to tell him and caught sight of her sister coming upstairs with her three friends and two guys in tow. The damn bet! “Nothing, let’s go.”

As they walked hand in hand past the semi-circular bar area, her head began to get a weird, floaty feeling. Lightheaded and a bit tipsy she held his arm in a tight grip while they walked toward the back where there were rooms given out for private parties. He pushed open the door to one and herded her into dimly lit room. Two guys occupied the room, seated with their backs to her on the beanbags.

El blinked and glanced around. The room swam before her. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them.

El glanced over her shoulder at her Michelangelo. What was this? His idea of an orgy? She wasn’t that drunk, just tipsy.

He squeezed her shoulder and shook his head as if aware of her thoughts.

“Hey guys! Listen up, I want you to meet someone.”

The two men turned around to look at them.

El squeezed her eyes shut and breathed through her mouth. You’re seeing things. It’s not what you think. She opened her eyes and wish she hadn’t. Nope, not seeing things.

Michelangelo hugged her frozen body close to his side. “This is the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with,” he announced. “And this time I’m serious.”