After Hours by Rochelle Alers Page A

would have dinner with me tonight.—L. Haynes. He’d included the telephone numbers to his office and cell phone. Smiling, she put the card to her nose. The scent of his cologne clung to the small vellum square. Even the card was of the finest quality paper. Her gaze shifted to the roses with petals that were beginning to open. The flowers were perfect, and Lance had been the perfect gentleman.
    What, she told herself, did she have to lose going out with him? After all, it was a date, not a hustle. Reaching for her cell phone, she dialed the number to his office. A strong female voice answered.
    â€œMr. Haynes’s office. This is Della. How may I help you?”
    Dina hesitated. She’d expected him to answer his own phone. “May I please speak to Mr. Haynes?”
    â€œMr. Haynes is out of the office. Would you like to leave a message?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYes what, miss?”
    â€œThis is Miss Gordon. Please tell Mr. Haynes yes.”
    â€œMs. Gordon, Mr. Haynes said that if you called, I was to tell you that he would pick you up at six.”
    She was mute for several seconds. Lance was so certain she would call that he’d given his secretary a message to give to her. “Tell Mr. Haynes I’ll be ready at six.”
    That said, she hung up. It was obvious that Mr. Lance Haynes was very confident, a trait she admired in a man.
    Confident men were usually successful men.
    Lance wanted to date her and she needed a male friend.
    A liaison would prove advantageous for both.

CHAPTER 22
    L ance saw Dina as soon as he swung into a parking space near the front of the motel. His smile mirrored delight in seeing her again. His gaze roved leisurely over her petite figure as he got out of his car. He saw an expression of surprise in her eyes before she shuttered them quickly.
    He couldn’t believe she could improve on perfection, yet she had. She wore a flattering jade-green dress with three-quarter cuffed sleeves, a stand-up collar and an oyster-white colored obi sash that emphasized her narrow waist. His gaze shifted to her tiny feet in a pair of high-heeled black patent leather pumps. His smile widened. She’d left her tanned legs bare. Instead of her dark hair flowing down her back, tonight she’d pinned it in a twist on the nape of her slender neck.
    Reaching for her hand, he brought it to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “You look beautiful.”
    Dina blushed like an innocent girl unaccustomed to male attention and flattery. She’d lost count of the number of times men had complimented her on her looks, but coming from Lance Haynes, it was different. He was her first real date.
    â€œThank you, Lance.” Her smoky voice had dropped an octave.
    Lance stared at the woman staring up at him, his protective instincts surfacing quickly. There was something so pure and childlike about Dina Gordon that it made him feel like a lecherous old man about to seduce a virgin. As soon as the notion entered his head, he banished it. He doubted that, at the age of twenty-seven, Dina was still a virgin.
    â€œYou look very nice,” Dina said truthfully. Lance wore a pair of dark gray trousers with a faint plum pinstripe. His crisp laundered shirt was a pale lilac he’d paired with an exquisite silk tie in a rich lapis-lazuli-blue. The cufflinks in the shirt’s French cuffs, either sterling or white gold, bore his monogram. He appeared slimmer, fit in his tailored attire.
    He kissed her hand again, then tucked it into the bend of his arm. “Thank you.”
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    Lance gave her a sidelong glance. “Atlantic City. I planned for us to have dinner before taking in a show.”
    Dina stumbled and would’ve fallen flat on her face if Lance hadn’t tightened his hold on her hand. “We can’t.”
    Waiting until they were seated together in the car, Lance turned to stare at the woman beside him. “Why can’t