I wasn't someone who usually responded to dares. I mean, who wanted to run outside naked screaming, "The sky is falling?" I also knew Royce didn't think I'd accept his dare.
My own devilish sense of humor-or maybe the simple desire to prove to him that I truly did possess an inner Tigress- rose within me, insisting I leap out of my seat and pole-vault onto that stage.
I tapped a finger on my chin and regarded him intently. "What do I get if I take you up on your dare?" I asked.
He held out his arms in invitation. "Me."
I should have expected such a reply. Smiling, I shook my head. "Good try. But that prize doesn't appeal to me." Lie. "Name something else."
"A night of wild sex."
"Nope." Bigger lie.
Royce stroked his jaw with deliberate slowness. "Hmm. What will tempt you, Naomi Delacroix?"
"Probably nothing." Biggest lie of all. I refilled my glass and sipped at my wine, savoring the robust flavor, relishing the comforting warmth it gave me. And the courage. "Try and tempt me. Just try."
"What if I promised the party won't be held anywhere that requires stepping inside an airplane?" he said. "Does that appeal to you?"
No more plane rides? I almost did a table dance right then and there. He'd chosen the one prize I could never refuse. Was the embarrassment of missing a note, of watching him snicker at my attempt to sing worth it?
I didn't have to think about it.
"You've got a deal," I said. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I held out one hand to shake and seal the bargain. His big hand dwarfed my smaller one and his calluses sparked a delicious friction.
"Good luck." He shot a glance through the restless crowd. "This doesn't look like a receptive audience."
He was trying to dissuade me, anything to win the bet. I surprised him by pushing to my feet. "I'll do it," I said, loud enough for the man onstage to hear. I made a face at Royce. Ha! I might make a fool of myself, might have to endure jeers and snickers and catcalls, but I'd be damned if I'd leave this bar a loser.
All at once, the crowd quieted. Every eye in the room found me, riveted by the spectacle I must surely make. My knees began quaking.
A slight brush of Royce's palm against my hip drew my gaze back to him. "What? Wishing you'd kept your mouth closed?" I asked.
His brows rose in mock salute. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"A bet's a bet, and I simply can't let you win." With that, I pivoted on my heel and strolled to the stage, unwinding the twist in my hair and letting the long, dark tendrils cascade down my shoulders and back.
Though my hand shook, I took the microphone from the announcer's outstretched hand. "Do you have 'Achy Breaky Heart'?"
He offered me a relieved grin. "Never have karaoke night without it."
A few seconds later, music blasted from the speakers, penetrating the sudden silence. The sound continued to climb in volume. Words appeared on a screen just in front of me.
Deciding simply to have fun, I assumed a laugh-with-me-not-at-me pose: one hand on my hip, silly grin on my lips. I began to sing. When the first note left my mouth, all movement in the audience stopped. Even the drunk guy stared up at me like I belonged in an institution.
But I worked the stage like a pro, flipping my hair, copping an attitude and, at last, someone chuckled. That was all it took.
"Oh, yeah," a man yelled. "Give it to me, baby. My heart is hurtin'."
"You can break me anytime," another called.
All around, hands clapped to the beat, urging me on. I went for it, giving the performance my all. I'd never admit it aloud, but I had the time of my life on that stage, belting out the lyrics and strutting my stuff.
When the end arrived, my voice slowly tapered to quiet. I waited for a reaction. Suddenly applause erupted and loud, buoyant cheers peeled like bells. Catcalls and whistling abounded.
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at Royce. I'd done it. Really done it. I had won my bet with him. Na, na, na, na, na, na. Take that, Mr. Royce Powell, god of the airplane world and superhero of sexiness.
No more airplane rides!
My grin became a smirk as I looked to Royce. He saluted me with his wineglass.