Chapter One
The click of her high-heeled boots against the concrete floor of the parking garage echoed an ominous warning. She inhaled through her nose and pulled the edges of her soft pink blouse together more. It did no good to get excited over a blind date.
“Remember, I’m not asking you to fall in love with the guy.” Cheryl bumped her hip against Debbie’s hip. “Just have a little fun.”
She ran her fingers under her eyes and hoped she didn’t have raccoon patches. All she wanted to do is go home and curl up on the end of the couch. Thank God it was Friday and she had the weekend to recover. Here she was, twenty-five years old, and the two-year-old tots at the preschool where she worked ran her ragged most days.
“I think you’ll really like him. He works with Gary.” Cheryl gave a little hop and walked backward so they could talk face-to-face. “Did I tell you he’s taking me away next weekend? Our first real commitment that this is the real deal we’re fooling around with.”
Debbie raised her brows and smiled. “Yeah, so you said. I’m happy for you.”
“But…?” Cheryl dropped back beside her and continued walking.
She sighed. “Look, Cher, I’m not too sure about tonight. I’m not big on blind dates. They never work out.”
Not only that, the men her friends picked out for her never did a damn thing for her. She wasn’t interested in partying at the bar or going to their houses to sit back and count how many times they could yell at the referee on television about the bad job he was doing on the football game.
“Here’s the deal. If this guy is a creep…I’m out of here.” She pulled back her shoulders and waited for the pedestrian light to change. “I’ll just call a cab to take me home, so it doesn’t mean you have to stop your night with Gary.”
Her friend shook her head and stepped off the curb. “Fine, but I think this guy is right up your alley.”
“That’d be a surprise,” she muttered.
Cheryl opened the door to McAllister’s Bar and Restaurant, a high-class lounge on Fifth Avenue, and let Debbie enter first. “I’m going to run to the little girls’ room before the guys get here.”
She nodded. “I’ll wait in the bar for you. Grab me when they get here.”
“Don’t disappear on me.” Her best friend narrowed her eyes. “You promised.”
Debbie smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Waving her hand, she motioned for her to go. “I’ll give him the five-minute test. Go. Go!”
Smiling at the hostess standing guard over the customers waiting for their turn for an available table in the restaurant, she slipped up the stairs into the bar. She squeezed between the bodies standing around drinking, mingling, and approached the bar.
The bartender shot her a wink and held up one finger, signaling he’d be right over to take her order. She laid her clutch on the bar and slid atop a stool to wait. One little glass of Irish cream and she’d find the strength to go through with dinner. After that, no promises.
The good-looking bartender with his short-cropped hair and black tie danced over and leaned across the counter. “What can I get you, beautiful?”
“Irish cream caramel on ice, please.”
“Make that two, and I’ll pay for the lady’s drink.” A low, husky voice over her shoulder raised the hair at the back of her neck.
The bartender nodded. “Comin’ up.”
The man stood close enough that his body brushed the back of her hair, and a shiver raced up her spine. A whiff of cologne came off him, and she closed her eyes to inhale. Drakkar.
Microorgasmic by his scent alone, she feared facing the man and dashing her pleasure with reality. Probably an out-of-shape divorcé whose main goal it was to see how many phone numbers he could get in a single night.
“Is this seat taken?”
She sighed and glimpsed a strong masculine hand pointing at the bar stool to his left. She shook her head. Get ready for the lame-ass pick-up line. One,
The click of her high-heeled boots against the concrete floor of the parking garage echoed an ominous warning. She inhaled through her nose and pulled the edges of her soft pink blouse together more. It did no good to get excited over a blind date.
“Remember, I’m not asking you to fall in love with the guy.” Cheryl bumped her hip against Debbie’s hip. “Just have a little fun.”
She ran her fingers under her eyes and hoped she didn’t have raccoon patches. All she wanted to do is go home and curl up on the end of the couch. Thank God it was Friday and she had the weekend to recover. Here she was, twenty-five years old, and the two-year-old tots at the preschool where she worked ran her ragged most days.
“I think you’ll really like him. He works with Gary.” Cheryl gave a little hop and walked backward so they could talk face-to-face. “Did I tell you he’s taking me away next weekend? Our first real commitment that this is the real deal we’re fooling around with.”
Debbie raised her brows and smiled. “Yeah, so you said. I’m happy for you.”
“But…?” Cheryl dropped back beside her and continued walking.
She sighed. “Look, Cher, I’m not too sure about tonight. I’m not big on blind dates. They never work out.”
Not only that, the men her friends picked out for her never did a damn thing for her. She wasn’t interested in partying at the bar or going to their houses to sit back and count how many times they could yell at the referee on television about the bad job he was doing on the football game.
“Here’s the deal. If this guy is a creep…I’m out of here.” She pulled back her shoulders and waited for the pedestrian light to change. “I’ll just call a cab to take me home, so it doesn’t mean you have to stop your night with Gary.”
Her friend shook her head and stepped off the curb. “Fine, but I think this guy is right up your alley.”
“That’d be a surprise,” she muttered.
Cheryl opened the door to McAllister’s Bar and Restaurant, a high-class lounge on Fifth Avenue, and let Debbie enter first. “I’m going to run to the little girls’ room before the guys get here.”
She nodded. “I’ll wait in the bar for you. Grab me when they get here.”
“Don’t disappear on me.” Her best friend narrowed her eyes. “You promised.”
Debbie smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Waving her hand, she motioned for her to go. “I’ll give him the five-minute test. Go. Go!”
Smiling at the hostess standing guard over the customers waiting for their turn for an available table in the restaurant, she slipped up the stairs into the bar. She squeezed between the bodies standing around drinking, mingling, and approached the bar.
The bartender shot her a wink and held up one finger, signaling he’d be right over to take her order. She laid her clutch on the bar and slid atop a stool to wait. One little glass of Irish cream and she’d find the strength to go through with dinner. After that, no promises.
The good-looking bartender with his short-cropped hair and black tie danced over and leaned across the counter. “What can I get you, beautiful?”
“Irish cream caramel on ice, please.”
“Make that two, and I’ll pay for the lady’s drink.” A low, husky voice over her shoulder raised the hair at the back of her neck.
The bartender nodded. “Comin’ up.”
The man stood close enough that his body brushed the back of her hair, and a shiver raced up her spine. A whiff of cologne came off him, and she closed her eyes to inhale. Drakkar.
Microorgasmic by his scent alone, she feared facing the man and dashing her pleasure with reality. Probably an out-of-shape divorcé whose main goal it was to see how many phone numbers he could get in a single night.
“Is this seat taken?”
She sighed and glimpsed a strong masculine hand pointing at the bar stool to his left. She shook her head. Get ready for the lame-ass pick-up line. One,
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