Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss. Tina Beckett

she perched on the nearest stool and forced a sip down, glancing across the space and meeting Dean’s eye. This evening he was in a snug black T-shirt and faded jeans, the combination doing a number on her tummy. She’d never seen him dressed this informally. He lifted his own drink—something that looked a whole lot stronger than hers—and gave her a mocking salute before taking a swig of it.

      Why was he even here? Surely not to make sure she did what she promised. Because he didn’t look particularly happy to be sitting there waiting for her to leave with her next victim. Or maybe he was just irritated that he wasn’t going to take someone home himself. Either way, this wasn’t fun anymore. Not that it ever had been.

      Someone tapped her shoulder, and Jess turned her barstool to meet the smile of a blue-eyed ginger. “You’re a fan of ale, I see.”

      The Scottish burr gave away his nationality, rolling across her in a way that made her smile right back. “Not actually, but I’m trying to learn.”

      The man leaned forward and gave an audible sniff. “Dark Lady. Not a bad choice.”

      Okay, so maybe Amy was on to something. “Are you a fan?”

      “I am now.” Jess wasn’t sure if he was talking about the ale or about her. She sized him up. Just how hard was he going to be to get rid of when it came time to leave?

      When he covered her hand with his, she had her answer. She tensed, a trickle of panic beginning to gather in her midsection.

      She didn’t want to make anyone angrier than necessary. Especially a man like this one. She got the feeling he might be a little more difficult to shake.

      Swallowing, she wondered if she could glance back at Dean and get his attention. They hadn’t set up a signal in case she got in over her head. So maybe she should …

      The back of her neck prickled just as her newfound companion’s brows pulled together. His hand tightened over hers.

      “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to, Jess.”

      Dean.

      Had he read her mind? As much as she’d been thinking about sending out an SOS, what she really wanted to do was leave and get this whole bet thing over with. It had been beyond stupid. A time waster. For both of them. She never would be a casual-sex type of girl, no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise. It was all fun and games … until someone lost an eye—or their heart.

      Not that she was in danger of that from this particular ale aficionado.

      But from Dean?

      Lord, she hoped not.

      She spun around, suddenly deciding she didn’t want or need his help. He’d decided he didn’t approve of this particular man? Well, she would show him that, from now on, she made those kinds of decisions.

      Up went her brows. She needed to cut him off before he got started. The last couple of times he’d wanted to get rid of a man who had his eye on her, he’d pretended to be her significant other.

      “Mum isn’t expecting us home until later.” She smirked up at him, daring him to contradict her.

      His response? A slow, knowing smile.

      “Mum knows what we’re like, when we’re out on the town.” He took the ale from her hand and set it in front of the Scotsman. “Enjoy.”

      The man let go of her, his possessiveness appearing to change to horror when Dean lifted a brow and said, “Dance with me … sis.”

      Then he whirled her into his arms and headed toward the floor where other couples were already moving to the beat of some slow song.

      Jess couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I can’t believe you just did that. You’ve probably scarred that man for life.”

      There was no way she was going to admit she was relieved. Relieved she wasn’t going to have to try to wave him off on her own.

      “I can’t believe you called me your brother.”

      “Serves you right for interfering.”

      He leaned back to study her face. “Did you want to leave with him?”

      No, she didn’t want to leave with him or anyone. But she’d gotten herself into a mess and wasn’t sure how to get herself back out of it. “I thought we had a deal. I leave with three different men, and you leave with no one.”

      “I’ve changed my mind.”

      A warning tingle began at the back of her skull. “What do you mean you’ve changed your mind? Are you reneging on the bet?”

      “Yes.” The word brushed across her, and the tingle became a full-fledged shiver.

      He pressed his cheek to hers and drew her closer. If the Scotsman wasn’t scarred before at the way Dean had whisked her away, he probably was now.

      Jess swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

      “I mean neither of us is leaving with a stranger. Not you. Not me.” His hand tightened on hers just the way the Scotsman’s had. The intimate contact filled her with alarm, but a completely different kind of alarm. Because she liked it.

      “Well, you not leaving with someone was kind of the point, wasn’t it?” Although her voice sounded as shaky as her legs felt, she managed a smile.

      “I’m forfeiting. As of now.”

      So he was tired of frittering his nights away with nothing to show for it in the end. She should be glad. Because that meant she didn’t have to pretend to leave with anyone now.

      But she wasn’t glad. And she wasn’t quite sure why. “You’re a free man. I assume you already have someone in mind.”

      “I do.”

      Jess turned her head, trying to figure out who the lucky woman was.

      He tucked his fingers under her chin and shifted her face back toward his. “You’re wrong. Are you so oblivious about what you do to a man like that?” He nodded in the direction of the bar where she’d sat a few moments ago.

      “I’m not sure what you mean.”

      “He wanted to take you home with him.”

      “Oh.” Of course she knew that, but then again people in places like this probably weren’t particularly choosy. After all, they were here for the same reason that Dean probably came here. To find a companion for a night of sex.

      He chuckled. “You really don’t have any idea, do you?” His fingers left her chin and trailed up the line of her jaw. “There’s only one woman I’m interested in leaving with.”

      “Who?” The trembling in her legs came back full force.

      “Let’s just say I’m thinking some very unbrotherly thoughts right now.”

      Her? He wanted to leave with her. Why?

       Wasn’t it obvious? Casual sex, remember?

      It was on the tip of her tongue to give him a resounding yes and leap into his arms. But whatever had been niggling in the back of her head grew as she thought through the implications. He was tired of playing the wingman … tired of his little hunger strike. And now he was hoping to break his fast. What easier target than the person he’d coaxed into taking this ridiculous bet in the first place? The person he’d dared to have casual sex with three different men. How easy would it be for Dean to be that third man?

      It had nothing to do with her at all. She could be a plastic mannequin for all he cared.

      Casual sex, indeed. Maybe that was good enough for him, but it wasn’t for her. He might think her a prude, but she didn’t care anymore.

      Hurt surged up from somewhere inside her—a large festering lump that threatened to burst open in front of everyone