Sweet Restraint Read online

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  Sweet Restraint

  by Becca Dale

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  Erotica/Romance

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  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  www.thewildrosepress.com

  Copyright ©2012 by Becca Dale

  First published in 2012

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  About the Author

  Also Available

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  * * *

  Sweet Restraint

  by

  Becca Dale

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Sweet Restraint

  COPYRIGHT (C) 2012 by Becca Dale

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, February 2012

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-241-5

  Published in the United States of America

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author of this work of fiction

  acknowledges the following trademarks:

  Barbie: Mattel, INC.

  Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America

  * * *

  Dedication

  To the man who never falters in his support.

  I could not fly without you.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Becca Dale

  AND HER BOOKS

  Sweet temptation

  “HUA!!! The only thing better than a sexy man is a HOT Marine...A winner for me from start to finish that left me with a warm feeling and damp panties :) Oh Yeah I'll take another dose and then some.”

  ~ Romance Reader, Seriously Reviewe

  “Cinderella-type tale with a hot Marine in lieu of a dashing prince—Hooah! The foreplay starts from nearly the first page (margarita cheesecake has never looked so good) and the heat between our heroine and hero doesn't let up until the last word. Definitely a must read for anyone's hot and spicy list.”

  ~ Got Erotic Romance

  Untamable

  “I would have no problem recommending this story to my reading group or my friends. I read it from start to finish in one sitting and I must say, I am really looking forward to reading future stories written by the author.”

  ~ Dogwood, Whipped Cream Reviews

  Surrender at Sea

  “Well slap me in suntan lotion and rev up the engines! This tale of romance on the high seas has a tough as nails female body guard and a hunky junior lover who adores stirring up more than just her anger.”

  ~ Franny, Rom Fan Reviews

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter One

  “I can't believe I let you talk me into these things?” Savannah grinned at her best friend and braced herself against the crowd of excited women who pushed and shoved to get one step closer to the front entrance of Hallman's Bridal despite the number system the store had implemented. “Why are we here again?”

  “Because a sale like this only rolls around once a year and next year might be too late.” Kate's entire five-foot-nothing frame vibrated with her usual enthusiasm. “You know it's genius.”

  “Are you kidding? You're not even engaged. Why spend a thousand dollars on a dress you might never wear?”

  “So I don't spend tens of thousands later.”

  Savannah groaned at the warped logic that strangely made sense after all the years her impractical friend had dragged her from one escapade to the next. Why would two single women standing in line for six hours just to get an opportunity to peruse the sample sale at the largest bridal shop in the tri-state area be any different? “What happens if your taste changes between now and your wedding day?”

  “Dress love is timeless. Now, quit being a poop.” Kate took a playful swing at her.

  Laughing, Savannah dodged the slap. “Just remember, I am not trying anything on.”

  “Spoil sport.”

  “Damned right. One of us has to be sensible.”

  Kate tossed her an infectious grin. “Or boring.”

  “Common sense is not boring.”

  “That's debatable.”

  “Only to you, my friend.” Savannah shook her head. No one ever really won an argument with Kate. Savannah had learned simply to throw out the last word and hope it stuck for some reason. “Those of us who live in the real world know the truth.”

  “Number seventeen, Savannah Jensen.”

  Kate grabbed her arm and jumped up and down. “Ooo, that's you, Vanny!”

  She tugged from her friend's grasp with a laugh. “I know. Let me go so I can shop.”

  “Okay, remember I want a full ball gown with lots of beadwork.”

  “I'll do my best.” Even though you'll look like a stunted Barbie cake. A Kelly cupcake, maybe?

  Mentally wiping away the unflattering image she would never share with her petite friend, Savannah squeezed past the horde and surveyed the situation with amused apprehension. Kate had been pushed back in line so her number was twenty, which left Savannah alone to shop for her friend's wedding dress. The open floor of Hallman's Bridal teemed with women running from rack to rack looking for a particular designer or style. The whole thing was pretty ridiculous, but as long as she was there, she might as well see what she could find. Pasting on a smile, she stopped a harried looking saleswoman. “Ball gowns?”

  The woman assessed Savannah, and then shook her head. “Honey, with that body you want something other than a big poofy dress. Check out that rack there by the back wall.”

  “But—” The other woman sprinted away before Savannah could say another word. “Okay, thanks then. Guess I'll find them myself.”

  “I'm in.” Kate hugged her from behind before she glared at Savannah's empty arms. “You don't have any dresses?”

  “I'm a little lost.”

  “That's all right. Go see what you can find for yourself. You might be surprised.”

  “I might also sign up for an elective root canal.”

  “Whatever works for you.” Kate made a beeline for a middle rack where copious amounts of fabric swelled into the aisles.

  Her friend disappeared as the ball gowns
swallowed her. “How the hell did I miss those?”

  Another saleswoman stopped. “Can I help?”

  Savannah shook her head and smiled. “No. I'm fine. Thanks.” She could either burrow through the ball gowns with Kate or look around. The suggested area called to her. It could be fun to peek at the styles. Looking didn't mean buying, did it?

  Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of a three-way mirror in awe and in love. The fitted strapless gown hugged her body. Butter-soft lace cut in at her waist and followed her hips then flared ever so slightly to the floor. A creamy satin underlay emphasized the delicate, hand crocheted fabric and tiny crystals sewn into the bodice. She had never worn anything so flawless or felt so lovely. If only she had a fiance to provide a logical reason to buy the stunning creation without guilt.

  Someone like that. She paused in admiring the dress long enough to watch a hunky, soldier type stroll across the showroom floor. Long and leanly muscled without being lanky or overly tall, he moved through the crowd with natural confidence and consideration. His short dark hair added to the rugged appeal of a clean-shaven, sharp jaw. He looked good enough to destroy self-restraint and personal promises. Maybe I should get his opinion on the dress.

  Kate stopped next to her with a huff and jerked Savannah's attention from the Adonis. “They don't have anything I want in my size. I'm a size eight for heaven's sake. Surely, they would have at least one ball gown in an eight.” She seemed to run out of breath as she stared in the mirror. “Wow. That's spectacular.”

  Savannah smiled and turned so she could see the back of the dress with its chapel length train. “I know, right?”

  “You have to buy it, even though it should be white instead of this antiqued color.”

  “Don't be ridiculous. I don't even have a boyfriend. What possible use would I have for a wedding dress?”

  “How much is it?”

  “I'm scared to look.”

  Kate laughed as she searched for the color-coded dot. “Why are you scared?”

  “I'm afraid I can afford it.”

  “That would be a good thing.”

  “Again no earthly reason to buy a wedding gown.”

  Clutching the elusive tag, Kate peeked from under Savannah's arm. “You have to buy it because you will never find another dress that fits you so well and compliments everything from your coloring to your shape for only...Do you want to know?”

  Did she? Maybe not. “How much?”

  “Fifteen hundred. It was originally almost six thousand.”

  “I'd have to be out of my mind.”

  Kate grabbed a whisper thin veil from a nearby display and tucked it carefully into the back of Savannah's hair. “Oh, Vanny, you look amazing.”

  “I'm not engaged. Haven't even had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months.”

  Kate put her hands on her hips and practically stomped her foot. “Do you want someone else to wear your dress down the aisle?”

  Savannah studied the gown one more time. As usual, her friend's bizarre approach to life made sense. The subtle sparkle and stunning lace spoke to her. She couldn't leave it behind. “Damn it.”

  Kate's chuckle confirmed what Savannah already knew. She had lost her mind.

  “Excuse me, Miss.” Gavin sidestepped a young woman as she rushed toward an open dressing room. Hallman's had morphed overnight from a quiet, tasteful bridal store to a wild free-for-all. He wove through the throng of agitated women and crowded racks of wedding gowns to the back counter labeled fittings and pick-up. A ponytailed teen peeked around the corner when he tapped the bell.

  “Oh, thank God, a real customer.”

  He laughed as he looked over his shoulder to the chaos behind him. “What's going on?”

  “The yearly sample sale.”

  “Must be a hell of a sale.”

  “Everything's half off or more, up to eighty percent, but no special orders.”

  “The staff must hate it.”

  “Actually, most of them love it. They get rid of old stuff so there's room for new and make some pretty happy brides in the process. Personally, I'm fine back here working on alterations.”

  “Then I won't keep you. I need the tuxes for the Braddock/Ferguson wedding.”

  “How many?”

  “Two.”

  “All right. I'll be right back. Stay here where you'll be safe.”

  Gavin chuckled as the girl scurried behind the curtain. He turned and surveyed the chaos in the main part of the store. Future brides, friends, and mothers ran about while frantic salespeople fought to keep up. Then he saw her, the most exquisite creature he had ever seen smiled from her reflected image. She stood before a three-way mirror with a much shorter blonde. Loose, ebony curls, muted by a gauzy sheer veil, brushed her shoulders and framed her oval face. Huge, wide-set eyes sparkled when she looked down at her friend. She flashed a Julia Robert's style grin as something the other woman said made her laugh.

  All the stories his family had told about knowing the perfect woman when he saw her filled his head. He didn't need to hear her name or anything else. His heart knew without question. Nothing mattered beyond that. He started toward her before the wedding dress she wore registered.

  Too late. She belonged to someone else. Still, he could not turn back to the counter. He had to see that smile directed his way, had to hear her speak at least once. He leaned a shoulder against the heavy white lacquered mirror and smiled at his dream. “Have you run the dance test yet?”

  She started as he spoke, turning toward him in curious surprise. “Excuse me?”

  Her short friend assessed him, but he ignored her, studying instead the breathtaking and unexpected sky blue of the beauty's eyes. Her expressive gaze narrowed and a confused scowl erased her exquisite smile. Her voice sounded as lovely as he had expected, but he needed that grin back.

  He stepped behind her, careful not to touch, while he studied the dress in the mirror. It outlined her tall, slender body in aching detail without losing class or grace. He could see her gliding down the aisle while some lucky bastard waited at the altar. “The dance test. Dancability is an essential element in selecting a wedding dress.”

  Her smile and spirited sparkle returned. “Is it, huh? And how do I test for that?”

  You step into my arms and let me hold you. “First, you need shoes so the gown doesn't drag.”

  The short woman disappeared and reappeared almost instantly with a pair of cream-colored pumps. “How about these?”

  Gavin dropped to his knee and held out a hand for the shoes. “Let's see shall we?”

  The beauty laughed. A stunning Cinderella to his bemused prince. Using his shoulder for balance, she stepped into the shoes. The heels lifted the gown's hem a scant half inch off the floor ensuring they wouldn't step on it.

  He cradled her fine-boned ankle a moment, savoring the smooth satin of her skin before he rose to his feet and attempted to act normal. “Shall we try it then?”

  The girl from alterations slid around the counter and hung the tuxedoes on a nearby hook. “Wait. I think there's a loop in the hem.” She searched the train until she found the satin circle and held it out. “Slip it over your right hand so the fabric sways as you dance.”

  Beauty shook her head but slid the band around her wrist. “We can't dance to this music.”

  The background instrumental shifted to Anne Murray's, ‘Could I Have This Dance,’ as if on cue. Magic. Gavin opened his arms, and she stepped into them with a sassy grin. His chest tightened. She fit his embrace perfectly. The heels put the top of her head slightly above his shoulder and her lips too close for logical thought. “Ready?”

  She nodded, and he swept her into the timeless sway of the music. Anne Murray's rich alto pleaded his case as he held his beauty close.

  Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?

  Her slender fingers nestled into his palm. Her other hand curled around his shoulder. The faint scent of vanilla and orange blossoms
drifted on the air between them, as innocent and sexy as the dress she wore. He kept his left hand respectfully at the small of her back while he guided her in a wide circle. Her feet followed his with effortless grace, and Murray sang his thoughts.

  I'll always remember that magic moment, when I held you close to me.

  He longed to pull her closer, to feel the alluring swell of her breasts beneath the lace and savor the few precious seconds until he had to walk away. His heart beat harder than necessary as it called to hers. Begging her to hear, aware she couldn't listen. A crowd gathered around, marking the edge of their dance floor, but he focused on the peaceful lure of her clear eyes and the gentle appeal of her smile.

  The music ended too soon, returning him to reality as the observers applauded. She tipped her head back, and he caved to a selfish need to taste her. Her lips yielded beneath his in a perfect kiss—a you may kiss the bride in church, in front of her grandmother or a hundred other shoppers, achingly tender, no-tongue promise of missed opportunity. Her chest rose and fell as her breathing hitched then raced to keep time with his.

  Blood pulsed in his skull. She belonged in his arms, not in the embrace of some other fortunate bastard. He deepened the kiss briefly before easing his mouth from hers. Her lips followed his as he released her. Her gorgeous gaze met and held his with troubled uncertainty. What would she do if he swept her into his arms and strode from the building, stealing her like a rogue of old? Too bad such fantasies didn't work in the real world. Hell, too bad there was no such thing as true love—first sight or otherwise.

  He touched his thumb to the corner of her sensuous mouth. “You're fiance is a very lucky man.”

  He grabbed the tuxes without another look, leaving her—and his heart—behind.

  Savannah stood stunned as Mr. Six-Foot of Gorgeous wove through the crowd and out of sight. An ancient gladiator moving among the doting throng, oblivious to sighs of adoration and undisguised lust. The warmth of his hand clung to the material on her back, and her lips trembled from his tender kiss.

  Kate grabbed her arm and jerked her into cold reality. “Oh, my God! Who was that?”