Mr. Virile and the Girl Next Door by Gwen Hayes Page B

was supposed to know something about her that he didn’t. All of these things should make him wary and rational instead of suddenly very, very turned on.
    Dane shook his head and remembered his manners, pulling out a chair. “Weird seems tame, but I agree.”
    Holly took Mags’ seat and held up her new drink in toast when he sat down. “Well, here’s to getting the bottom of it.”
    He tried to come up with a quip or thought or, hell, anything to say, but his tongue couldn’t work around the sandpaper dryness in his mouth. He wasn’t actually nervous was he? He reminded himself that he was twenty-eight years old, not fourteen, but this sensation felt achingly close.
    Dane tried to recall the last time a woman had made him nervous and came up with—too long ago to remember. Well, except for the dominatrix two years ago, but that was a different kind of nervous and, while he enjoyed the experience, it wasn’t one he’d repeat.
    No, this feeling was completely different. He was…anxious. Filled with a sweet anticipation that made all his nerve endings a little raw. He’d been coasting safely on a very scenic highway for many years, but all of the sudden, it felt like he was going off-road for an adventure in pot holes, blind corners and lots of mud. His adrenalin spiked even as he tried to talk himself down.
    “So, Dane, why are we here?” Holly asked without guile.
    God, that voice . Even a direct, honest question sounded provocative.
    He’d have to play this one cool. Not usually a problem, but tonight was going to take some concentration. “I’m here meeting my agent for a drink to talk about my upcoming book release.” Though obviously, that wasn’t what Mags had really invited him here for. “You?”
    Those crescents deepened above her nose again. He tightened the grip on his glass to avoid the temptation to smooth her brow gently with his finger. What the hell was wrong with him?
    “Same actually,” she answered.
    “So, you’re a writer?” he asked.
    Jesus, Sherlock .
    “Accidentally, I suppose. I’m a blogger with a book deal.”
    “Well, that explains what we have in common,” Dane replied. “I run a website as well. My book comes out in July. You?”
    “Next year.” She had faint crinkle lines when she smiled and it turned his stomach inside out. Why, he had no idea. “Congratulations. What’s your book about?” she asked.
    Dane tipped his glass and watched the amber liquid move with the motion. He was proud of his website and even prouder of his book, but suddenly it seemed…shallow. His life’s work and he was ashamed to admit it to this woman. “Dating advice for men.”
    Holly sputtered, and her pink drink sprinkled the table. She quickly mopped up the mess with the cocktail napkin in one hand while covering her cough with the other.
    “Uh…” he eloquently expressed. Idiot .
    “I’m so sorry. And embarrassed. And wanting to die,” she said. “It’s just that…oh my God.” She shook her head.
    It occurred to him that he liked the fact that she seemed so human. It seemed like all the women he spent time with were practiced, maybe even a little plastic if he thought about it too hard. This girl with a husky laugh and genuine imperfections like smile lines and freckles felt like a new frontier of some kind. Why did women try so hard to cover them up?
    “You’re going to have to fill me in here, Holly. What has you so flustered?”
    Smoothing the bodice of her dress, Holly tried very hard to repaint some poise over her composure. “I just realized who you must be.”
    Dane felt his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. “And who might that be, exactly?”
    She downed the rest of the Cosmo in one gulp. “You, sir, are the antithesis of everything I hold dear.”

Dear Girl Next Door,
    I’m at my wit’s end. I’m totally into this guy and we have a great time whenever we are together, but he can’t seem to make a plan and stick with it…and if I call him on it, he