Double Down Kiss (The Kiss Club #4)

Prologue

“Would you rather drink tea with no sugar or hot chocolate without marshmallows?”

Britt Callaway gasped at the thought of doing either. She scowled at the man occupying the aisle seat next to her on the plane. “Heathen!”

He chuckled. “Answer the question.”

“You know both are morally wrong, right?”

If she’d thought for a minute that argument would garner sympathy, she’d have been sorely mistaken. There was no way in hell Lincoln Pierce was going to cut her some slack.

“Whatever,” Linc said. “Just pick one.”

Sugar or marshmallows? Truly, how was she supposed to choose between the two?

“I hate you.”

“Cool. What’s your answer?”

“Ugh. Fine! No marshmallows.” It actually hurt her heart to speak those words.

Okay, that was melodramatic, but those choices were just plain mean.

The grin Linc flashed in response to her pain was positively wicked. “Figured. No self-respecting Southern belle would survive a day without her sweet tea.”

“Don’t act so smug,” she scolded. “I’ve been drinking it since I was in the womb, so it’s probably ingrained in my DNA.” She’d grown up in Louisiana where sweet tea was arguably a food group.

“Probably.”

“Okay, Mr. DJ, let’s see how you like it.” Linc and his best friend, Emery, co-hosted the top-rated morning radio show in their hometown. “Would you rather scratch all your classic record albums, or only have cassette tapes to work with on the air?”

“Everything’s digital now.”

She gave him the stare down. “Stop being so literal.”

“I would,” he replied, then added with a smirk, “but literally everything is digital now, so...”

Give me strength.

“Answer the question.”

“Cassettes,” he said, popping a broken pretzel piece into his mouth.

Were airline pretzels ever intact?

“If they get messed up, I’ll go home and listen to my records.”

Britt laughed.

“Okay…” Linc pushed up his sleeves, revealing toned forearms, and rubbed his hands together. “Would you rath?—?”

“What are you doing?” she asked, motioning to his pushed-up sleeves. “Preparing for a fight?”

“Possibly.”

Great. She mentally braced herself for his next question. No telling what it was going to be.

“Would you rather,” he continued, an evil glint lighting his deep brown eyes, “only get to eat Cajun food or only eat Creole food?” Her eyes widened, but they practically popped out of their sockets when he punctuated the question with, “For the rest of your life.”

“No!”

“What do you mean, ‘no’? You can’t just say ‘no.’”

“I just did.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“I’m not picking.”

“You have to; that’s the game,” Linc pointed out.

“Too bad.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Not happening.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “If you break the rules, there has to be consequences.”

“Consequences?”

“A punishment, if you will.”

Her core clenching when Linc said the word “punishment” caught her completely by surprise.

What the hell?

It wasn’t like that between her and Linc. They were friends, nothing more.

She’d met him not long after her best friend, Laurel, had gotten together with her boyfriend–now fiancé, Jake. The two men were part of a tight-knit group of friends, and when Laurel was inducted into the fold, their friend circles had intersected and eventually merged.

Since the entire group consisted of couples, aside from Britt, Linc, and Skye, who was Britt’s other best friend, the three had bonded out of necessity.

After all, being a tricycle was much better than an extra wheel.

Even so, it was Linc and Britt who really hit it off.

He was one of those people who instantly made you feel comfortable.

When they’d first met, it was like she’d known him her entire life.

She’d never had a close guy friend before, but that’s what he’d become.

They just “clicked.” Not in a romantic sense, though the guy was arguably gorgeous.

It had just never been like that between them.

So, why were her lady bits all of a sudden whistling Dixie?

Lack of sleep, she concluded. She’d closed down the restaurant where she worked as a sous chef last night and had gotten up way earlier than normal to catch this flight. Of course, it could also be the lack of sex.

“Deal?” Linc asked. “If you don’t answer, I get to pick your punishment.”

Britt pressed her thighs together.

Stop whistling!

Her reaction was starting to freak her out because…

It’s Linc.

Her friend of two years who she’d never thought of as more. And he certainly didn’t think of her that way either.

Linc raised his eyebrows and gave a small shake of his head. “I’m waiting” implied so strongly that she practically heard it.

“That depends on what it is,” she said.

“Like you can’t guess.”

Duh. Of course. “Boeuf bourguignon.” It was his favorite meal of the recipes that she’d cooked for him thus far.

He nodded. “And…?”

She squelched a smile. “Macarons.” He acted like a five-year-old at Christmas whenever she made those cookies.

“A prize for the lady.”

“Fine, but just so you know, making a chef cook isn’t really a punishment.”

“Never thought of that. In that case?—”

“Nope. You already picked. No changing it now.”

“Fine, but just so you know,” he parroted her words. “I wasn’t going to change it anyway.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Okay, would you rather…?”

“You just went,” she argued. “It’s my turn.”

“You didn’t answer,” he said matter-of-factly, adjusting his black-framed glasses. “Hence, you defaulted. I get to go again. Seriously, Zana, you’d think you’d know the rules by now.”

Unfortunately for her, Linc was as sarcastic as he was attractive and had locked onto the nickname the first time she’d told him she was from Louisiana.

With her Southern accent, her pronunciation of her home state came out as “Lou-zana,” which sealed her fate.

He’d probably call her “Zana” until the day she died.

“How am I supposed to keep track of the rules if you can change them on the fly?” she countered.

He ignored her question. “Would you rather…?”

“And come to think of it,” she continued. “When exactly did we adopt said rules? If you’re making decisions based on them, don’t you think I should have a copy? Seems only fair.”

He laughed. “You'd argue with a possum, wouldn’t you?”

That made her grin. She loved the fact he was picking up some of her Southernisms. “Depends. Is he on your side or mine?”

The tinny voice of the pilot interrupted their debate.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We’re starting our descent into Las Vegas, so make sure your seatbelts are fastened and your seats and tray tables are up and in the locked position.

The local time is one thirty-five p.m. and it’s a balmy ninety-eight degrees, so be sure to wear your sunscreen.

Thank you for flying with us, and enjoy your stay.

Flight attendants, please prepare for arrival. ”

“It’s Vegas, baby!” Linc was sporting her favorite smile—the one that was so big, the faint dimple in his left cheek actually made a rare appearance. “Get ready to max your credit cards and leave your good judgment and inhibitions behind.”