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No Promises Required
by Cari Quinn

Copyright © 2014 by Cari Quinn. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Jill St. John’s entire life had come down to this moment—to strip or not to strip.

“C’mon, you can’t back out now,” Vicky Townsend said as she applied war paint to her face. Vicky was a natural beauty who needed very little help, except apparently when she was preparing to dance her booty off onstage in front of a crowd of hollering men—a group who happened to include her fiancé Cory’s bachelor party. The rest of the audience would be a wildcard. Talent Night at Triple Threat always attracted an interesting crowd. “Haven’t you always wanted to gyrate in front of a bunch of horny men?”

Jill lifted an eyebrow. Dancing in front of Cory and his other guy friends would be embarrassing enough, but half of the other people in the club were complete strangers.

Not that a bunch of strangers would stop Vic. Vic and her friends were providing the entertainment for her husband- to-be’s party, unbeknownst to him. At first, Vic had told Jill
to sit down with the guys and enjoy the show. Apparently, the days of Vic being overprotective weren’t quite over. But Jill had finally convinced Vic to let her join in.

She’d pushed to join in the pseudo-stripping routine for one very good reason. Namely, Vic’s sexy older brother Bryan was scheduled to attend.

Scheduled, yes. A sure bet, no.

It seemed like she’d been angling to get closer to Bryan forever. Vic thought Jill barely knew her big brother, but she was wrong. They had a past Vic had never been privy to, for good reason. They’d talked a lot as teenagers—and one night, they’d even gone past conversation.

Haven’s resident football star was back in town for two weeks, and if she had her way, they’d be two very dirty weeks, thank you very much. Tonight would start them off on the right note.

But with every passing minute, it seemed less likely that Bryan would appear in time for the main event. If he even came at all.

Well, she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself with no payoff. Her stage fright was kicking in, and without the chance to make Bryan drool, she was out.

But how to break the news to Vic?

Hey, I know I asked you to let me join in, but I just remembered that I break out in hives whenever I have to wear anything made out of feathers, latex, or pleather. True fact.

She tried the soft approach. “Are you sure you need me?”

“Seriously? Jill, you begged me to let you do this.”

“I guess I’ve just got a little stage fright.”

Vicky turned toward Jill, her big brown eyes silently
imploring. “You can’t back out now. I can’t go out there with just Mel and Nellie and Lex. We modified the routine for five dancers.”

“A routine I butchered during practice.” Jill tugged her lip gloss out of her purse and leaned closer to the mirror for a quick touch-up. “Besides, I’m not dressed to strip,” she added, glancing down at her little black dress and chunky heels. Thank God, she finished in her head.

As much as she wanted to shed her boring image and begin having the wild adventures she’d always dreamed about—ideally with Bryan—before she started Vet-Tech school in the fall, she wasn’t sure this was the way to start. She wasn’t harboring any illusions that Bryan would want to settle down with her, but that was okay.

She’d dealt with enough of her fame-junkie father’s in- and-out appearances in her life than to want a relationship with a man who lived in the spotlight. She wasn’t worried whether she could compete with all of his fans. She knew she couldn’t. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t grab him for a night. Or two. Or three.

Assuming she managed to put the moves on him before his defenses came up.

Jill didn’t have any moves, dancing or otherwise. But she had other assets to lure Bryan with. Even though Vic had so deviously devised the dance routine so that Jill would come on stage last, at the back of the group, she’d planned to head straight for Bryan. With luck, she’d have been on him before he could look at anyone else. Touching him. Tempting him. And hopefully seducing him…

“Hello, we have costumes.” Vic charged over to the chair piled high with glittery outfits, each one more scandalous
than the last. “Grab the one you want now. Otherwise, if you wait until Nellie gets here, you’ll get stuck with second pick since you’re about the same size.”

“Same size as a woman who just had a baby? Jeez,” Jill said. “Boost my confidence a tad higher before I jiggle my junk on stage, will you?”

Vicky laughed. “She had the baby months ago, and you know she’s tiny. Besides, I thought you were having second thoughts.”

Jill had half a mind to do the show despite her serious misgivings just to show Vic she wasn’t a kid anymore. Okay, so she was still a virgin. But even that little sign of innocence was about to vanish in a night of orgasms. Assuming Bryan ever showed up. Where was he, anyway?

“I’m not having second thoughts,” Jill said. “I’m just…”

“Stalling?”

“Maybe.”

“Listen,” Vic said. “I know I’m giving you a hard time, but this is going to be a blast. You’ll regret not joining in.” She widened her baby browns. “Come on, this is one of our last hurrahs as freewheeling besties.”

Just what she wanted to think about right now. Her best friend was on the verge of marrying an amazing guy. Goodbye Friday-night parties, hello responsible dates at home. Vic would probably have married-person stuff to do, like knitting socks or pressing trousers or learning how to make casseroles.

Which had its own kind of appeal. But Jill had no intention of settling down until she had a chance to let down her purple-streaked hair and party. She’d been the vanilla bean in their rocky road circle of friends for too long. Now
was the time for her to go after what—who—she wanted.

Which begged the question: why would she pass up this opportunity to shake her groove thang? Sure, it didn’t look likely Bryan would be here in time to see their show—she’d checked the audience several times already—but there was still a chance. Wasn’t it worth taking the risk to get a shot at the man she couldn’t stop fantasizing about?

“I know I’d be missing out,” Jill said. “I’m not leaving—”

“But?”

“Let me step outside. Just give me a second to catch my breath.” And possibly take a few bracing sips of tequila from that flask she’d tucked in her purse for the occasion.

“Is that code for ‘slip out the door and never come back?'”

“No. I swear!” She dumped her lip gloss in her purse and pulled her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Vic cocked an eyebrow. “If you leave, I’m so going to kick your ass.”

“Would I do that?”

“In a New York City heartbeat.”

Jill laughed and opened the door. “Worry about making Cory’s eyes cross.”

“Ass. Kicked,” Vic called as Jill pulled the door shut behind her.

Relief swept over her as she glimpsed the empty hall leading to the side exit. Perfect timing. No one would notice her. And if she decided after all that this was a bad idea… well, Vic hadn’t wanted her onstage anyway.

She rushed down the hallway, her mind already dancing with images of a black-and-white movie marathon and ice cream with hot fudge. Hell, she was even pretty sure she
had a can of chocolate whipped cream leftover from that horrible date with Howard the Winker, who’d talked a way better game than he’d played.

He’d seemed horrified by her idea of making him into a human sundae on their way to possibly actually having sex. Since then, she’d adopted a new plan of action for if and when she ever managed to become intimate with another man. She’d skip the kinky sundae toppings and go straight vanilla at first so as not to scare off her suitor, then work on integrating the extra goodies into the banana split later.

Of course, then she’d heard Bryan was coming into town. And she’d be damned if she let that opportunity slip her by. Not just the man she’d wanted since high school to be her first. He had a reputation for wicked ways. Maybe ways wicked enough that she could throw caution to the wind and give her naughtiest fantasies free reign with him in the bedroom.

Ugh. One more reason to hate that he was nowhere in sight.

She pushed open the door and hurried outside, shivering in the chilly February air. She should’ve worn a jacket. It might be a good idea to get one from her car. She started around the building and towards the darkened parking lot. She stared up at the star-sprinkled sky, searching as she always did for the Big Dipper after Vicky had told her where to look. Total sham. She could never find—

As she rounded the corner of the building, she bumped into something rock-solid and let out an undignified yelp before her mouth brushed a ridiculously soft sweater. Even the taste of cotton, however, couldn’t distract her from the massive pecs under her hands as she grappled for purchase.

“Wow. You’re hard.”

Oh Lord, had she really said that?

He laughed. “Not yet, but you’re off to a good start.”

Heat flared into her face. She peeked up between her bangs and gasped.

Shit, shit, shit.

It was Bryan.

“Easy, darlin’.” Rich, masculine laughter flowed over her, somewhat mitigating the embarrassment of colliding with the solid wall of muscle that made up Bryan’s chest. He steadied her on her heels. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you to watch where you’re going?”

That voice. It was deep and honeyed and capable of singeing off a woman’s panties from the fifty-yard line. She’d had dreams about that voice. Some of them even while she was asleep.

She took another peek from under her bangs. Bryan Townsend—Vicky’s older brother—gazed down at her with an amused smile lifting his smug mouth. The man radiated confidence, from his carelessly shaggy hair right down to the blindingly white sneakers bumping into her heels. Here was a guy who would never run from the opportunity to shake his thing onstage if it meant completing a seduction. And now that she knew he was here—now that he was so temptingly close to her—she was glad she hadn’t left.

For years, she’d done everything she could to get his attention. After Jill’s family had moved into the Townsends’ neighborhood as a kid, she’d spent lots of time at their house. That equaled lots of opportunities to be around Bryan until he’d moved away for football. He was more than five years older than she was, and off-limits in more than one way: Best friend’s brother, older, so experienced that he had a constant parade of chicks following him day and night.

Sheesh. Off-limits in more than one way? Try every way.

Until the night of Vicky’s seventeenth birthday party, when Jill had teased Bryan into kissing her. Even now she could remember the taste of cinnamon and ginger on his tongue. He was already playing football by then, drafted to a decent team, and he’d been so full of himself, smiling, talking up his role as second string quarterback, making her laugh with his friendly taunts. He’d had a beer or two, and she’d used every bit of her wiles to get him alone.

He was her first crush, her first kiss…hell, she’d wanted him to be her first everything, but he’d backed off after that night, rarely speaking to her when he came home. They’d had a few conversations, usually centered around her mom, who Bryan had grown close to over the years after his own had left the family to “find herself.” He’d become more and more famous, eventually being traded to the much higher profile Maryland Mariners. And the tabloids had kept her up-to-date—when she could stand to read them—about his many girlfriends. It seemed like he had a new one every month.

Whereas she’d had failed sexpeditions with dud after dud. But she wasn’t one bit bitter.

Now he was back in town for two weeks—just long enough for the kind of scorching affair she’d always dreamed of.

“Guess it’s a good thing I ran into you and not the big bad wolf,” she said softly. “Isn’t it, Bry?”

“Hold on… Jill?” He reached up to touch her hair, as though only now recognizing her. “What did you do to yourself?”

She laughed. Simply had to. Even without the makeover, he might not have recognized her, since the gaps between his visits home were growing larger. He’d never been a hometown kind of guy, despite the fact that he’d been born in Haven. Not that she’d changed her appearance that much. She’d grown out her hair, added purple highlights, and begun dressing a little more seductively in the hopes of breaking out of her shell—hence the dress that barely covered enough of her thighs to keep goose bumps from popping up on her skin.

The fact that she’d also hoped to see him tonight might’ve incidentally played into her outfit. Maybe.

“Well hello to you, too,” she said. “How long has it been?”

“Obviously not long enough,” he muttered, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Gee, thanks. Don’t worry about my feelings or anything.” She started to brush by him to go back toward the entrance, figuring the first part of seduction meant giving him something to chase.

And he didn’t disappoint. His hand closed around her upper arm. The contact shot her pulse into the red zone.

“Hold on,” he said.

She fought not to tremble and wasn’t entirely sure she pulled it off. He made it so difficult for her to act like an experienced woman of the world. “Hey there, paws off.”

“I don’t think we were done. Why are you here tonight?”

“This is a public club. I’m allowed to go wherever I would like.”

“No kidding. I meant why are you here on the night of Cory’s bachelor party?” He released her arm and pushed his
hand into his back pocket. She couldn’t be sure in this light, but she was willing to bet he’d worn super tight jeans, like he usually had as a teenager. “Kind of coincidental, don’t you think?”

She sniffed. “I can’t say.”

“Oh, I bet you can. This has the markings of my sister all over it.” He nudged her against the wall and braced his hands on either side of her waist. “C’mon, Jilly Bean, ‘fess up. What’s Vic up to?”

“Do not call me Jilly Bean,” she hissed, glancing to the right and left in case they’d been overheard. For a girl trying to shed her staid reputation, a childhood nickname like Jilly Bean was worse than the kiss of death. It was the kiss of purity, and Lord knew she already had plenty of that.

“Why? It’s your name, isn’t it?” He touched a purple strand of hair clinging to her cheek. “You might look a little different, but you’re the same innocent—”

“I’m not freaking innocent.” She went with her impulse and gave him a live demonstration by palming his cock through his jeans, right there against the side of the building. She flashed him a triumphant smile when a tremor went through his body, and she curled her fingers that much tighter. “Now,” she purred, “what was that you were saying?”

…

His little sister’s sweet best friend had her hand on his cock. And she wasn’t fumbling or blushing or shaking, either.

On the other hand, he wasn’t too far from shuddering. Little sister’s best friend. Little sister’s best friend. Little sister’s best friend.

Maybe if he kept chanting that in his head, he wouldn’t push up her skirt to see if she was as ready to play as she seemed. The only thing that seemed to undermine her casually sexual demeanor was the way she averted her gaze, as if she were afraid to look him in the eye while she rocked his world.

Evidently, lots of people had changed recently— including him.

For months, he’d been riding the straight and narrow. He hadn’t taken a lover, had barely had a drop to drink. Ever since he’d heard the Mariners might not be renewing his contract, he’d given up the beer, females, and taco dip for a cleaner lifestyle. But with one look at that rounded ass and those fuck-me blue eyes, he couldn’t remember why he was supposed to say no.

It had been a long time since they’d seen each other for more than a few minutes at a stretch. One of the reasons he’d been glad to leave town years ago had been his hope of avoiding this. If they couldn’t even say hello without one of them groping the other, clearly they needed to retreat to opposite corners of the universe.

Get a hold of yourself.

He knew better. She was too sweet and wholesome for him, hand on his cock notwithstanding. One night of sex with her would turn into another night, and that would turn into what it always turned into with him. Eventually, he’d let her down. The way he always let his lovers down. That might be okay when it happened with random girls hyped up to sleep with a football star, but with Jill? His sister’s best friend? No way.

Besides, getting back to football required his entire focus. His image needed to be shined up, and that meant no wine, no women, and no thongs. Certainly not his little sister’s best friend’s hand rubbing against him, making him harder than a rock.

Not to mention he wasn’t in town long enough to get involved with anyone. Especially anyone who would only complicate his already complicated life with a capital C.

“What the hell are you doing?” he gritted out, pressing his knuckles into the brick wall. Even the quick bite of pressure didn’t distract him from the sudden heaviness between his legs. Jesus, Jill had some grip on her.

“Right now? I’m stroking your cock.”

For a second, he could’ve sworn he heard her teeth chattering. Was she really that cold or could she be more nervous than she seemed?

“Thanks for the update,” he said.

“It’s a pretty big one, too, isn’t it?” Her breathing stuttered. “I mean, nothing astronomical, but large enough as they go.”

“What do you know about cocks?” The response was a knee-jerk reaction to his dented pride. Later, he might feel guilty about it. Maybe. “A chaste girl like you.”

The words seemed wrong even as he said them. She damn well didn’t seem chaste anymore, other than those small signs of nerves. If that was even what they were.

But it was too late to take it back. Her shoulders caved in, and she bowed her head. Dammit, he’d hurt her feelings. He immediately gripped her hips and moved closer, intending to apologize. Instead she tilted up her chin and shot him a challenging look an angel couldn’t have resisted.

And he was no fucking angel.

“You’ve clearly gotten the wrong idea about me,” she said, her eyes flashing heat even in the cool winter night. The lights around the building didn’t offer much illumination, but he could see the fire in her gaze with no trouble. “But even if you hadn’t”—she opened her legs a fraction, putting his thumbs dangerously low on her inner thighs—”consider this your invitation to show me what I’ve missed.”

His brain scrambled, all the blood in his system surging south. Hell no. He wasn’t going there with her again, not ever. Despite the fact that he could remember exactly how eagerly her lips had parted under his all those years ago. There was no reason to remember. He’d been with plenty of women since.

But those women weren’t Jill, and he’d never been the same man with any of them. She’d brought out something in him he always fought to shove down. She’d made him feel comfortable enough to be himself. She knew his mother had walked away from their family without warning when he was sixteen, and she’d never acted like it affected her opinion of him. Around Jill, he could just be.

That made her dangerous. This was a difficult time. He had to keep his true self repressed. Resist his wild urges. Resist how she was touching him, inviting his dark side to break free…

And fuck, those lips, pink and shimmering. Her tongue slicked along their fullness, tempting him to edge his thumbs deeper into the V of her thighs, wondering if she’d part for him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby girl.”

“I do know how the mechanics work, you know.” She tossed back her hair, all fire and sass and impatience. An
irresistible combination. “As for the particulars, sure, they could use a little refining—”

He slanted his mouth over hers, more to make her shut up than anything. God knew he wasn’t fully thinking about what he was doing, or he never would’ve pushed her up against the building, never would’ve let her take his cock in her hand.

That taste of what could be would haunt him. He fucking knew better.

But then she licked her lips and pressed her body into his, and he lost it. His hand came up between her legs, and hearing her gasp, he let out a sharp growl and leaned in to take her mouth with his.

Lust swam into his bloodstream with her first startled exhalation. She didn’t fight to keep him out, just opened her lips and invited him in with a sly curl of her tongue. She tasted fresh and…young. Hunger licked at his mouth, her tongue eager, ready, and flavored with cherries.

He fisted his hands in all that damn hair pouring down her back. He couldn’t contain it, couldn’t turn her head just right to get deep enough into her sweet, warm depths.

She was right there with him, moaning her pleasure while she writhed against him and gripped his sweater. Thank God she’d let go of his dick or he would’ve—

“Fuck. No.” Releasing her hair, he ripped his mouth away and stared down at her flushed face as if she were a frightening apparition. For all intents and purposes, she was. She represented his longing for something he was never going to have, no matter what.

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes still closed as she reached for him. “I think you missed a spot.”

He nearly laughed. Damn this woman. “I didn’t miss a
thing, and you know it.”

“Mmm.” Eyes still shut, she smiled. “I can think of a couple.”

Did she—oh yeah, she did. She’d placed her innuendoes right at the door of no man’s land, and he was imagining every fucking second.

To keep himself from grabbing her again, he stepped away and struggled for oxygen. She’d been throwing him off his game since he was a teenager. Nice to see nothing had changed.

Except now he could walk away and not look back. Not like all those years ago. He’d had a difficult time shaking her off, especially when he’d been so close to her mother. Touching Mrs. St. John’s baby girl seemed like sacrilege, even if he’d been all too aware that if he didn’t, someone else would.

But he didn’t have girlfriends. Never had, and he still didn’t. He took lovers. And if any girl had ever been more girlfriend-material than Jill St. John, he’d never met her.

Reason number sixty-nine not to even consider going there now.

“Jill,” he said, waiting until her heavy lids lifted. Something twisted in his gut at the dreamy look in her eyes, evident even in the dim light. “We’re in public. Anyone could walk out here and see us. Goddammit, I barely said hello before I practically mauled you.” After she’d first felt up his cock, but that was neither here nor there.

“So?” Her chin jutted out.

“The last thing I need is more gossip about my love life. I’m trying to clean up my image.” Not exactly by choice, either. He’d been in damage-control mode since even before
he’d been released by his team. A little gossip about wild times behind closed doors helped an athlete’s career. Too much hampered it. He’d been trying to balance the scales for months now.

“Oh, so I’m dirtying you up?” Rather than sounding insulted, she sounded amused. Maybe even intrigued.

Clearly that tactic wasn’t going to work. Time to pull out the big guns, the numero-uno reason he’d never let himself cross that line with her. If he hadn’t already. “You’re my sister’s best friend.”

Just like that, the shutters fell on her face. His gratitude that he’d found the key to make her retreat didn’t lessen his reluctance to lose access to that soft, sexy part of her.

She tugged at her dress, pulling it back into place with a prim little jerk that made his cock twitch. “And your point is what?”

“You and me can never happen.” He tried to make his voice gentle, but it was difficult when he was pretty sure his shaft would permanently bear the imprint of his zipper. “She would never want to see you with the likes of me.” And she’d be right.

“Why, because you actually know what you’re doing in bed? God fucking forbid.” She reached up to straighten her hair. The more she fussed with it, the wilder it became. “Guess what, Mr. Big Shot? I don’t mind that you’ve been with a gazillion women.”

His spine stiffened. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

But she didn’t appear to be listening. “In fact, I consider that a bonus. You won’t fumble around like you’ve never seen a—”

He brushed his hips against her, unable to resist one more tease. Christ, the V-neck of her dress ended practically at her navel. With the moonlight spilling over her skin, he could make out the alluring shadows between those forbidden swells that pushed against her dress. “A what, baby? If you want to claim it, you can name it.”

She shoved him back. “If you want to hear me dirty talk, you better give me a good reason.”

Her words poured a welcome bucket of cold water on his libido. “Vic’s getting married. I’m in town just long enough to watch it happen. Two weeks from now, I’m outta here.”

“I get it. You think I can’t be discreet or deal with things how they are. Naturally I’d want a lifetime commitment from you, not a ride.”

So much for her being sweet and innocent. He searched for his voice. “Did you just say a ride?”

Shaking her head, she brushed him aside. “I never figured you for a coward, Townsend.”

“I’m no fucking coward.” Indignation reared its head, nearly stifling the demands of his other, more southerly one. Then she shifted, jiggling her tits again, and his dick renewed its very valid case. “Here I am, trying to do the honorable thing, and you—”

“Save it. I hear you, loud and clear.” She flashed him a thin smile over her shoulder and started sashaying back toward the club. “Enjoy the show, Bry.”

He was still staring after her fine-as-hell ass, trying to figure out how everything had gone so wrong, when her statement finally sunk in.

What show?

Cursing under his breath, he headed inside to find out.