can’t
all look like we just stepped off the runway.”
Jen rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just shut the hell up already,” she said,
with mock anger in her tone. Then she shook her head and narrowed her eyes at
me. “I’d kill for those curves of yours. And those huge blue eyes.”
Then suddenly her expression clouded over, and she looked at me cautiously.
“It’s just, well, I think you’re attracting the wrong kind of man with that
look,” she said, biting her lip and frowning at me.
I shook my head and threw my arms up in exasperation. “Let’s just go have some
fun, okay?”
Jen nodded, but then shot me a quick, pointed look. “Has he called?”
I felt a surge of anger and frustration pulse through me. “Yes, about a million
times,” I said, shrugging helplessly.
Jen’s eyes darkened and her shoulders became tense. “Hasn’t he gotten the
message yet? It’s over. I never did get it, Mel. I mean he’s so controlling and
dull as dishwater. And…the thing about the clothes. You never dressed like that
until you met him.”
I looked at her in disbelief. “Dressed like what?”
“You know, so conservative,” she said, her face tensing in expectation of
another slap on the arm.
I decided to pretend to be offended. “I’ll have you know that this is a
cutting-edge Prada sheath dress,” I said in a stern tone, while smoothing down
the black satin along my hips with my palms.
Jen’s face became exaggeratedly pained as she twirled a thick blond lock around
her finger. “Darling, that’s not cutting-edge. It’s classic. And we all know
classic is a euphemism for boring.”
All I could do was sigh in exasperation and give her another slap on the arm.
“Ouch!” she said. “That’s going to bruise.”
I rolled my eyes at her and held out my arm as a link for hers. “Come on. We’re
being rude. Introduce me to your friends.”
***
Jen’s friends were, for the most part, fabulous. Jen, Tina, and Silvia all
worked at the same PR firm. And all three of them liked to play hard. We were
seated along the long bar, laughing loudly and drinking like it was going out
of style. I was about five Old Cuban’s deep, gazing around at the potted palms,
pale wood tables, the East-Asian wood grilles on the windows, and the shadows
of patrons flickering on the cream colored walls, when he caught my eye and I
was nearly startled off my stool.
The first flash of his rugged beauty was enough to make my pulse race and my
breath catch in my throat. He had dark wavy hair which gleamed a golden brown
in the dim light cast from the pot lights. His features were strong and
chiseled, his eyes intense and gleaming, his mouth curved in a sensuous crooked
smile. With his battered black leather jacket and light stubble, he looked out
of place among all of the three-piece suits surrounding him. His glittering
eyes continued to bore into me, and I felt a rush of heat between my legs, and my
hands starting to tremble. I was rattled, no doubt about it. No, that’s an
understatement. I was shaken to my core. I tore my eyes away from him, looking
for the nearest escape, the washroom or an exit. Even in her drunken state, Jen
was perceptive as ever.
“Hey,” she slurred, bringing her hand down sloppily over mine. “Are you okay?
You look totally shaken up.”
I shot a quick glance in the direction of the devastatingly gorgeous man
responsible for sending me so off balance. He was still staring, his eyes
running slowly up my body, taking me in, his gaze finally shifting to my face,
his eyes locking with mine. Jen didn’t miss a beat. “That,” she said, clumsily
but emphatically, “Is exactly the right kind of man for you.”
I shook my head vehemently and pulled my hand
all look like we just stepped off the runway.”
Jen rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just shut the hell up already,” she said,
with mock anger in her tone. Then she shook her head and narrowed her eyes at
me. “I’d kill for those curves of yours. And those huge blue eyes.”
Then suddenly her expression clouded over, and she looked at me cautiously.
“It’s just, well, I think you’re attracting the wrong kind of man with that
look,” she said, biting her lip and frowning at me.
I shook my head and threw my arms up in exasperation. “Let’s just go have some
fun, okay?”
Jen nodded, but then shot me a quick, pointed look. “Has he called?”
I felt a surge of anger and frustration pulse through me. “Yes, about a million
times,” I said, shrugging helplessly.
Jen’s eyes darkened and her shoulders became tense. “Hasn’t he gotten the
message yet? It’s over. I never did get it, Mel. I mean he’s so controlling and
dull as dishwater. And…the thing about the clothes. You never dressed like that
until you met him.”
I looked at her in disbelief. “Dressed like what?”
“You know, so conservative,” she said, her face tensing in expectation of
another slap on the arm.
I decided to pretend to be offended. “I’ll have you know that this is a
cutting-edge Prada sheath dress,” I said in a stern tone, while smoothing down
the black satin along my hips with my palms.
Jen’s face became exaggeratedly pained as she twirled a thick blond lock around
her finger. “Darling, that’s not cutting-edge. It’s classic. And we all know
classic is a euphemism for boring.”
All I could do was sigh in exasperation and give her another slap on the arm.
“Ouch!” she said. “That’s going to bruise.”
I rolled my eyes at her and held out my arm as a link for hers. “Come on. We’re
being rude. Introduce me to your friends.”
***
Jen’s friends were, for the most part, fabulous. Jen, Tina, and Silvia all
worked at the same PR firm. And all three of them liked to play hard. We were
seated along the long bar, laughing loudly and drinking like it was going out
of style. I was about five Old Cuban’s deep, gazing around at the potted palms,
pale wood tables, the East-Asian wood grilles on the windows, and the shadows
of patrons flickering on the cream colored walls, when he caught my eye and I
was nearly startled off my stool.
The first flash of his rugged beauty was enough to make my pulse race and my
breath catch in my throat. He had dark wavy hair which gleamed a golden brown
in the dim light cast from the pot lights. His features were strong and
chiseled, his eyes intense and gleaming, his mouth curved in a sensuous crooked
smile. With his battered black leather jacket and light stubble, he looked out
of place among all of the three-piece suits surrounding him. His glittering
eyes continued to bore into me, and I felt a rush of heat between my legs, and my
hands starting to tremble. I was rattled, no doubt about it. No, that’s an
understatement. I was shaken to my core. I tore my eyes away from him, looking
for the nearest escape, the washroom or an exit. Even in her drunken state, Jen
was perceptive as ever.
“Hey,” she slurred, bringing her hand down sloppily over mine. “Are you okay?
You look totally shaken up.”
I shot a quick glance in the direction of the devastatingly gorgeous man
responsible for sending me so off balance. He was still staring, his eyes
running slowly up my body, taking me in, his gaze finally shifting to my face,
his eyes locking with mine. Jen didn’t miss a beat. “That,” she said, clumsily
but emphatically, “Is exactly the right kind of man for you.”
I shook my head vehemently and pulled my hand
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