Two Wrongs Make a Right Read online

  The ensemble wasn’t the typical honky-tonk flair, but that would make her stand out in the crowd, or she should say, competition. There’d be plenty of women there wanting to hook up just as she was. Well, the rest of them probably didn’t want to get pregnant, but most likely they’d be younger. Skinnier. Prettier. According to Megan, since Justin’s divorce, he’d never brought a woman to a company function, so she didn’t have a clue what kind of woman he preferred.

  Younger and thinner. The words pounded in her head. She spun around again to check out the finished product. She didn’t have a skinny bone in her body. Everything was full and rounded. How depressing. She’d never picked up a man in a bar, or had a one-night stand. If he rejected her, what would be her next move? Go back to the dating game?

  She’d practiced make-believe conversation all week, and read about him in the company newsletters. Fantasized about him at night. How it would feel to stand next to him. To be in his arms. Kiss him. He was taller than Brad. Broader. At five-six, she’d never felt petite with her former boyfriend since he was five-nine. Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength to finish her scheme.

  ~~*~~

  Dak rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth and wondered why he’d agreed to the night out. A public bar hadn’t been his choice of entertainment in a while and certainly not a redneck saloon. Women were there. Lonely. Desperate. And although those types could be a good thing for his hormones, he’d made his no-pickup rule a long time ago and stuck to it. Most were interested in finding another daddy for their children, and if there was one thing he didn’t want, it was raising another man’s kids, and dealing with a jerk of an ex-husband. No woman was worth that. Not to him. He wouldn’t let a one-night fling ruin his future. Surviving two tours in Iraq and one crazy woman’s boyfriend was his limit.

  Earlier today, Dalton’s Department Store finally accepted his ad campaign, so tonight he’d celebrate. A multi-million dollar deal for his company and sizeable bonus for him. He planned to let loose. And because of that, he’d drive to his condo in town, and take a taxi to the bar. That way, if he drank too much, he didn’t have to find another way home, and leave his truck in a vacant parking lot.

  On Saturday, he’d sleep late, and work in a trip to the grocery store before heading to the cabin. A juicy steak and a quiet evening sounded good. The extra hours put in concerning the last client hadn’t allowed him much free time, but it’d paid off.

  With one last look in the mirror, he ran his hand through his hair, picked up his wallet and keys, then strode out of the house full of anticipation.

  ~~*~~

  The closer Quinn got to the hotel, the more she second guessed the plan. What was wrong with her? The way her luck had been going concerning the opposite sex, there was no guarantee Justin would show up, and if he did, no assurance he’d be interested.

  For the second time, she pulled to the shoulder and considered her choice. Even after planning, could it work? A reserved hotel room waited, and she’d chosen a fake name. Also, researched a medical supply company in El Paso where she could claim employment. It was far enough away from Austin, seeing him again would be impractical. She laughed out loud. What a joke. Even if she got him into bed, he’d never want to see her again.

  She took her hands from the steering wheel, but they were shaking so much, she gripped it again to stop the tremors. No. She’d come too far to turn back now. She’d bought new panties.

  With a wave of new resolve, she pulled back into traffic. Thirty minutes later, she stood at the window of her second floor room and stared across the street at the bar. Rowdy’s flashed in red neon, and the marquee read: ONE PERFORMANCE ONLY, EMORY QUINN, 8 PM.

  Her stomach somersaulted. Molly Harper, Molly Harper, Molly Harper. She’d repeated the fake name so much over the last week, she’d gotten comfortable with it. Everything was in place. Alias. Rented car. Fabricated job and hometown. Faulty condoms.

  Turning from the window, she opened her luggage. After putting the toiletries in the bathroom, she placed the condoms in the side pocket of the suitcase. She felt sure he’d buy her latex allergy story and use her protection instead of his. She’d poked plenty of holes in three of the twelve, and made sure they were first in the box. If she convinced him to stay over, and seduced him once tonight, and again before he left tomorrow, her odds went up.

  She glanced at her watch. Seven. Too nervous to wait in her room, she checked her makeup one more time, then headed to the elevator.

  A few minutes later, she stood inside the club. Most of the tables were full, so she went straight to the bar and ordered a virgin banana daiquiri. Even though alcohol offered fortitude, it was better to keep her wits. Making friends with the bartender, she gave him instructions, then slipped him a couple of twenties. I must be in Molly Harper mode because Quinn Dorsey would do none of this.

  A group of girls let out shrill yelps, and she turned to look at them. In tank tops and jeans, they appeared to be in their early twenties. Probably sorority sisters celebrating someone reaching the legal drinking age.

  Nope, this mission wasn’t normal for Quinn. This was an out-of-body experience. Sensible Quinn didn’t go to bars to pick up men. Molly Harper was a wild woman.

  Eyes fixed on Quinn, one coed approached. When she reached the counter, she propped a hip on the next stool and rested her elbow on the bar. “Hey, Dave, we need another round of shots,” she ordered, then spoke to Quinn. “Are you here all by yourself or meeting someone?”

  Surprised by the question, she stuttered. “Oh…I…”

  The blue-eyed blonde laughed. “We noticed you standing here and thought we’d invite you to join our party. The more the merrier.”

  She started to refuse, but her alter ego stepped up to the plate. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

  “No intrusion.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Natalie.”

  Quinn clasped it. “Molly. In that case, sure. What are y’all celebrating? Birthday? Bachelorette party?”

  “Kristen’s divorce. It was final today.” She pointed to a dark haired girl in the center of the pack.

  Quinn squinted to bring the girl into focus. She looked too young to be married, much less divorced. “Wow, she must have married when she was a teenager.”

  “Nah. Twenty-five.”

  “But she barely looks twenty-five.”

  Dave slid the brown platter of drinks across the bar. Natalie grabbed the tray and balanced it on one hand. “Starter marriage. Seven months. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

  Quinn followed to the table and met the crew. The honoree wasn’t hard to identify. Across her white tank top were the words, I DO, I DID, I DON’T.

  As much as Quinn appreciated the invitation, she was out of place. These girls were ten years her junior. Another decade would pass before they had to worry about gravity pulling anything south.

  Molly slapped sense into her. She refused to let pragmatic Quinn bring her down. The house band started a roaring rendition of Gretchen Wilson’s, Here for the Party. Kristen pulled Quinn to her feet, and they danced and hollered until the song ended. Lord, Quinn hoped they didn’t follow up with Redneck Woman, because her heart was pounding and Molly wasn’t any better off.

  At a quarter till eight, Quinn’s nerves took over again. Still no sign of Justin, and the show started in fifteen minutes. He’d probably decided not to come. Just as well. With all the young, sexy women in the bar, she’d be the last person he’d notice. She wanted to leave, but Molly reasoned with her. The band wasn’t one she was familiar with, but she’d read they were all native Texans.

  Keeping an eye on the entrance, she started on her second virgin daiquiri. Her palms sweated. Lord, she hoped her armpits weren’t doing the same. She felt hot all over and not in a good way.

  ~~*~~

  By the time Dak parked at his condo and took the taxi ride to the club, it was almost eight. Just enough time for a drink before the show.

  Once inside, he scanne
d the room for Luke. Not an easy task with the lights so dim. Then he saw him at the end of the bar. A group of rowdy women occupied the table between the stage and where Luke stood. Dak gave them a cursory glance as he sidled up next to his friend. They were all young, loud, and sporting tight jeans and low-cut tanks. Except for one. She looked out of place. Like she should be in a courtroom instead of a local watering hole.

  Dak leaned in to Luke and asked, “You the only one here?”

  “Here comes another one.”

  Justin eased up to the bar. “Hey, y’all been here long?”

  “Just now.”

  The bartender came over. “What can I get you?”

  “Blue Moon.”

  “Balcones, neat.”

  “Ben coming?”

  Dak nodded. “Texted. Said he’ll be late.”

  ~~*~~

  Kristin clasped Quinn’s hand and pulled her from the chair to the dance floor. Quinn didn’t go all out this time. She kept her movements subdued. No need to spend all her energy. She might need it later. She twirled around toward the door and her heart stopped. Justin had arrived.

  For the past few days, she’d propped his picture on her dresser and practiced conversation with him. Now, every thought evaporated. Wearing a plaid sport shirt, jeans starched and stacked above cowboy boots, he was more handsome than the company photo. Her mouth went dry and then Molly reminded her. Of course we’re turned on, we’re ovulating.

  No need to waste time. She should make a move before the band started their set. Catching the bartender’s eye, she nodded toward her victim. Dave knew what to do.

  For just a bit of fortitude, she grabbed a shot from the table and knocked it back, hoping tequila and banana mixed well together. Holy crap. The inside of her nose went cold. At least it opened her sinuses. She turned her attention back to Dave as he delivered the drink. Gasping, her eyes widened. No! Not him…the guy in the plaid shirt. The guy with the dark hair. The guy with the dimples. Holy shit!!! Her throat closed off. The barkeep gave the drink to the wrong man! The stranger acknowledged her by hoisting his glass as if toasting, then faced his friends again. Her heart sank. Now what? She couldn’t go back and buy another drink. She’d look like a slut buying every guy at the bar a beer. This was a disaster. She had to get out of there.

  She leaned closer to Kristen. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m leaving. Thanks for letting me join your party.”

  “Are you sure? If you drink some water and skip the next round…”

  “No, I need to lie down. Thank the others for me. I had fun.” Quinn didn’t give her a chance to respond, she grabbed her purse and hurried toward the door. In five minutes, she’d be back in her room, and could forget the mistake and her stupid idea.

  ~~*~~

  The bartender set the drinks down. Dak pulled out his wallet, but the barkeep shook his head. “It’s already covered.” Then he tilted his head toward the rowdy party. “Lady in the pearls paid.”

  Dak turned to get a better view and so did his friends. He lifted his glass, tipped his head, and an odd sensation crawled across his skin. Her eyes went wide for a few seconds, but then she glanced away. Weird. Bold enough to buy a stranger a drink, but unable to look at him.

  “Damn, you’re here five minutes and some babe is buying you a drink? Kudos, man,” Justin said. “You should go over there.”

  “Not my type.”

  Luke’s head flinched back. “Ready and willing is every guy’s type. Go on. Let me, the guy with two kids and a pregnant wife live vicariously through you.”

  Ben nudged his way through the crowd and joined them. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Help me out here,” Luke said. “That librarian-looking chick.” He jerked his head toward the table. “Bought your brother-in-law a drink and he won’t go talk to her.”

  Ben leaned out for a better vantage point. “Kind of hard to see from here, but I can tell she’s not blonde, so not his type.”

  “You should encourage him,” Luke said.

  “Hey, I’m just saying, he prefers them bleached and anorexic.”

  Dak stiffened and frowned at his brother-in-law. “No, I don’t.”

  “Uh—yeah, you do. Even from this distance I can tell that woman is way too sophisticated for you. She might have an IQ above seventy. Too much of a challenge.”

  “What the hell do you mean? The women I date aren’t stupid.”

  “Not according to Sim.”

  “My sister’s opinion doesn’t count.”

  “Fine. Discussion closed. Now, I need to tall boy up.”

  Dak didn’t drop the subject. “So you side with Luke and Justin? You think I should go over there?”

  “Too late, man. She’s leaving,” Luke said.

  ~~*~~

  As Quinn stepped into the warm night air, a voice called after her.

  “Hey, wait!”

  Her heart jumped into her throat and she kept walking. She needed to get away, so she picked up speed, but he called again, this time closer. Louder. When she turned, he stopped a few feet away.

  “You’re not leaving, are you? I haven’t properly thanked you for the drink.”

  Quinn couldn’t speak, but Molly had plenty to say. She raised her voice an octave, animated her movements for effect, and spewed words at lightning speed. “That’s okay. That was a mistake. Coming to the bar was a mistake. I’m as out of place in there as a priest in a whorehouse.” Her hands flapped the air and Quinn had no control. “But I saw the bar from my hotel window and I thought crap, I’m only in town for the weekend, so why not do something crazy for once in my life. I mean, I never go to bars, so I don’t know what possessed me.” She tried to stop her head from bobbing and weaving, but her evil twin had taken command of Quinn’s motor skills.

  “I can tell you’re a nice guy and you’re not interested, so if I stayed in there, you’d feel guilty, and come over out of obligation, and ask me to dance, or offer to buy me a drink, and then I’d feel guilty for putting you in that situation, so it’s better I leave. You don’t want to get mixed up with me, I’m a mess.” Quinn attempted again to shut the Doppelganger down, but Molly wasn’t having it.

  “I don’t exercise. I don’t diet. I don’t do yoga, which is proven to keep you limber well into your seventies and possibly prevent osteoporosis. My mother says I’m insane for letting Brad, the attorney, get away. Clearly, I am nuts. I don’t know you and I’m buying you a drink? What was I thinking? You could be a serial killer, although I don’t believe you are, but still, you see what I’m talking about?”

  He laughed when she got to the yoga part. He should run away, and Quinn wished he would because now she was having a conversation with him and didn’t know how to end it.

  Then he reached out and took her hand, and the parking lot spun. Was he going to detain her until he called EMTs to bring a straightjacket? Probably.

  He tugged her forward and smiled with sincere interest in his eyes. “Why don’t you come back inside and buy me another drink?”

  Lord Jesus, Molly.

  ~~*~~

  Dak didn’t have a clue why he chased after the woman. Maybe it was the look on his friends’ faces. Like somehow if he didn’t, he’d be admitting they were right about his choice in women. Or the strange feeling he’d gotten when she locked eyes. Whatever the reason, he rushed through the door into the parking lot like a high school boy after his first crush. And before he could stop himself, he called out to her. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he hollered louder.

  Intending to tell her it was nothing personal. Explain his no-pickup rule, and thank her for the drink, he hoped to let her down easy. But she turned to face him, brown eyes wide, hands and head kinetic, dark curls flying in every direction, sensuous lips forming words faster than he could listen. Then he felt it. A little skip in his pulse. It only lasted a second, but long enough to get his attention.

  Whatever it was, it vanished, and he focused on her again. She was trying to brush
him off in some type of reverse psychology. Who was this woman? In a few minutes, he found out more about her than most women on a first date. She had mother issues. Broken up with her boyfriend. From out of town and looking for a good time.

  And when he held her hand, there it was again. That missed beat. Longer this time as if the physical contact intensified the symptom. Her hand, small and warm, trembled. He believed her story. This was a woman who didn’t pick up men in bars, or, he wagered, any other place.

  He pulled her closer, and she stiffened, so he relaxed his grip. Hell, rules were made to be broken, so he asked her to buy him another drink. Not the best come-on line and he wasn’t sure she’d go for it.

  She hesitated and drew a shallow breath. “See, I was right. I’ve shamed you into saying that. I should go back to my…”

  Dak yanked her closer and crushed his mouth down on hers. At first, she went rigid, then clutched his shirt to pull him tighter against her. He hung on to the kiss, and the heart blip became a full blown arrhythmia. By the time their lips parted, she’d gone limp. He kept his hands around her waist for fear she might collapse onto the pavement.

  She struggled for breath and he pulled her tighter. He’d hold her all night if he had to. “Did that feel like guilt or obligation?”

  Head lolled back and eyes half closed, she uttered, “Uh-uh.”

  “I didn’t think so. Can you stand without me holding you?”

  “Oh. Umm, yeah, maybe. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  He released her and grinned wider. “Me neither. Now, let’s get back inside. I want to see this band. I’m Dak Savage.”

  “Molly Harper.”

  The concert was an interlude for what Dak had planned, and after that mind-blowing kiss, he knew she was on board. No need to hurry. A room waited right across the street and they had all night. If it was breakup revenge she wanted, he was happy to oblige. Either the guy who left her hadn’t been taking care of business, or it’d been a while, because the way she kissed screamed more.