21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales by Heather Long

only a thirty-minute nap and a cup of decaf to stave off exhaustion had made her a master of poise and controlled expression. A talent she was immensely grateful for because she’d glanced out of the booth to see the tall, athletic man with his broad shoulders, tan skin, and sexy-as-sin smile a full sixty seconds before the waitress led him to her booth.
    She barely managed to sit back and reach for her wine glass to steady her nerves and back-flipping stomach. If one could blend Hugh Jackman’s engaging smile and Dwayne Johnson’s broad shoulders with Chris Hemsworth’s physique, they would have created James. The description she’d received via text promised a six-foot four dining companion with sandy blond hair, a dimpled cheek and a passion for long conversations about “life, the universe and everything.” The Douglas Adams quote was enough to soothe her unease over a blind one-night stand.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” And it was. Ironic considering she’d turned around twice on her way to the date, both times having to consciously recite the three reasons she’d allowed her agent to sign her up for the mysterious Madame Eve’s 1Night Stand. She wanted a night with a real man, with no vested interest in how she could help his career. She wanted to explore genuine options, to descend from the glass walls of exposure where being seen was what it was all about. And, she wanted a night that was just about her and the delicious man standing in front of her.
    As they shook hands, she couldn’t help the smile pulling her mouth wide. She didn’t need to pretend pleasure at meeting him or the simple delight at the emotion rippling across his expression lighting up his slate gray eyes.
    “Ma’am, you have no idea.” The cultured gentleman with the air of small town charm continued to hold her hand.
    “Well, perhaps you can enlighten me.” Her knees quivered and she was glad she’d chosen the pale champagne silk dress with its bodice cupping top and floor length skirt. James released her with a hint of reluctance and gestured toward the booth.
    Barely managing to contain the wild butterflies rioting in her belly, she swept a smoothing hand across her hip before sitting. Fortunately pure silk didn’t wrinkle, so sitting wouldn’t leave a crinkled line across her ass.
    Thank God I worked out this morning .
    He waited a beat until she’d settled before sliding in across from her. She was at once irritated and delighted by their private booth. Delighted for the intimacy of the small table and the privacy it afforded and irritated that he was far away, around the curve of the booth to sit opposite her.
    Slow down. We can afford to take a moment and absorb. He hasn’t said much and the gorgeous packaging is just window dressing . Her libido wasn’t remotely interested in the practical thoughts. She crossed one leg over the other, foot bumping his long legs under the table. A quiver of heat shivered in her belly.
    “I have a confession to make.” Her first rule of dating shattered without a backward glance. She never started the conversation. After ten years of boring dates with men who only seemed to know how to talk about themselves, she’d learned the best barometer of her interest was to let her date take the lead. She could tell in five minutes or less whether dinner would make it to dessert or drinks afterward and within another ten whether they would be saying goodnight at the restaurant.
    “Oh?” He shifted in the seat, the warmth of his leg stretching away from hers a fraction, allowing her crossed legs space but still close enough that she regretted insisting on a public meeting location.
    “Yes.” Wrapping her fingers around the wine glass for courage, she tried to edge aside the schoolgirl jitters to meet his even look. “I’ve never decided to have sex with a man after one glance before.”
    His mouth opened, a hint of shock flattening his dimples.
    Way to play that subtle, Kincaid.