Dare to Tease: A Dare Nation Novella Carly Phillips (best selling autobiographies .TXT) 📖

add one to his table. Hell, she’d be thrilled he was bringing a date and had offered him a plus-one with his invitation.

“But what about Corinne? Surely you know she’s excited to see you again after all this time,” Martin said.

Hudson glanced up at the sky before shifting his gaze back to the road in front of him. “She’s not invited to the wedding, and we haven’t spoken in years,” he said of a family friend’s daughter his parents approved of as a match for Hudson.

They’d never dated, not for Corinne’s lack of trying to corner him at events. His parents would like nothing more than a marriage within their social circle. It wasn’t happening.

“Well, at least you’re coming,” his father said begrudgingly. “I’ll let your mother know.”

The bride knew he was coming, had known for months, but he’d let his parents wonder because then they wouldn’t attempt to make plans for the weekend that included him and someone else … like Corinne. And now that he was bringing a date, they wouldn’t even try. At least he didn’t have to worry about how his parents would treat his guest. They believed in good manners and appearances, and they’d treat Brianne with respect.

“I’ll see you soon. Bye, Dad.” Hudson disconnected the call just as he turned onto the street leading to his apartment.

Jesus, it had been a long day. He thought about what he’d just told his father and drew a deep breath, exhaling as he realized what he’d done.

Now he just had to convince Bri to join him for a weekend in New York. With his family. After sharing just one kiss.

Okay, so he had his work cut out for him, but he was up for the challenge.

* * * *

The next morning, Bri struggled to get dressed and ended up taking off the gauze on her hands since she’d all but ruined the wrapping anyway. The skin was raw and painful, and she gave up on a blouse with buttons and ended up in a pair of black slacks and a shirt she could pull over her head. Despite her love of high heels, she wasn’t feeling all sexy and powerful, so she slid on a pair of ballet slippers instead.

Her hands throbbed, and she slathered on some Neosporin, but she didn’t have Band-Aids large enough to cover the road rash, and by the time she was ready to leave for work, she was near tears in frustration. She’d really done a number on herself, and it wasn’t going to be easy for a couple of days.

Her doorbell rang. She couldn’t imagine who’d be here at this hour, but she went to the front door of her house and looked through the side window to see Hudson with a white plastic bag in his hand.

Looking sexy in his black Miami Thunder polo shirt and tan khakis, his beard well trimmed, she was reminded of what it felt like to have the soft hair rubbing against her skin as they’d kissed. She shivered, her nipples tightening beneath her bra.

“Shake it off, Brianne,” she muttered as she unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Hudson! What are you doing here?”

“Making a house call.”

Warmth spread through her at his thoughtfulness. “I guess that makes me special.”

His answering grin seduced her right down to her toes, but when his gaze went to her hands, his smile turned to a frown. “From the looks of things, you could use my help.”

She glanced at her greasy palms and winced. “Yes, I could.”

He nodded. “The skin was pretty chafed last night, and I figured you’d need help with a fresh wrap so it doesn’t get infected.” He lifted the bag that obviously held medical supplies.

“Come on in.” She stepped back, making room for him to enter.

He brushed past her, the warm, masculine smell of his cologne putting her into a sensual haze.

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” she said, her voice a shade deeper than normal.

As he walked ahead of her, he looked around, taking in her beloved home.

“From the day I saw this place, I loved it,” he said. He’d visited recently for a family get-together.

“Me, too.” Wanting a home of her own, Bri had bought the patio house last year.

She followed him to the kitchen, seeing the house through his eyes. Light blue walls with chair rails and molding painted in white, dark hardwood floors, and area rugs in strategic places with pops of color in various shades of blue. Her favorite color. A sense of pride filled her at knowing he liked her sanctuary as much as she did, which was odd that she cared what Hudson thought.

At thirty-two years old, she’d pretty much decided she might be on her own and not part of a couple, and she’d created the life she wanted without waiting for a guy to make her feel complete. She’d hired a decorator because she didn’t have the time to pick things out for herself, described her taste, and ended up with everything she would have chosen anyway.

Hudson placed the bag on the counter near her barstools and began to take out gauze, tape, and Neosporin, which she already had. His thoughtfulness touched her.

Though Braden had texted to check in, it was Hudson who was here. “Thanks for coming over. I was struggling a bit.” She wasn’t one to ask for help and more the type to find solutions; still, she was glad he was here.

She settled herself on a barstool, and Hudson walked around the counter and came up beside her. “Since it looks like you did the cleanup and ointment, I’ll just wrap it for you.”

“I appreciate it.” Holding out her hands, she waited as he began to wrap the gauze just as he’d done last night, finishing one hand with adept precision.

“So anything that you’ll have to cancel thanks to the injury? Tennis? A workout? A date this weekend?” he asked, his gaze focused on his task as he casually tossed out possibilities.

Her heart stuttered