Janelle Denison: Into The Night

Another woman appeared in his line of vision, effectively interrupting his little fantasy. She was dressed in a navy-striped power suit and wore a pair of black-rimmed designer glasses. Her hair was twisted up into a severe knot on her head, and she held a glass of white wine in her hand.

“Hi. My name’s Heather,” she said formally, and held out her hand for him to shake.

Not so surprisingly, her grip was as strong as a man’s, backing up that power suit she was wearing. “Nathan,” he replied with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Her own smile was slight, as if she didn’t want to give up too much all at once to the wrong guy. “I’m a paralegal for a law firm here in Vegas. What do you do?”

Okay, that was direct and to the point. “I work in security.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, not at all impressed with his profession. “Oh, like a rent-a-cop?”

Because he didn’t care for her overall attitude, he didn’t bother to correct her assumption. “Yeah, something like that.”

That’s all it took to make Heather bolt. Obviously, she was looking for a guy with a more stable, and prominent, career. And that was fine with Nathan.

He went for a refill on his drink and caught sight of Pink again, who’d moved on to the buffet table set up across the room. He experienced a jolt to find her subtly watching him with an inviting smile on her lips as she selected some strawberries from a fruit tray. Just when Nathan decided to head toward her, another guy moved in.

Which gave another woman the opportunity to corner him at the same moment.

Well, hell. The petite redhead standing in front of him introduced herself as Cleo, and while she dominated the conversation with information about herself and what she was looking for in a husband, Nathan only half listened to what she was saying, nodding when he thought it appropriate. He was too damn distracted by Pink’s husky laughter drifting from the other side of the room and how she’d every so often give him a private I’m-totally-attracted-to-you glance before resuming her discussion with the men around her.

She was teasing him from a distance. Flirting with her body language. Slowly driving him mad with the need to meet her up close and personal and see if the heated awareness between them was real, or just his imagination.

Before he had a chance to implement his plan, Cindy stepped into the middle of the room and rang a bell, the signal that the speed-dating event was about to begin. All the lively chatter settled down, and everyone’s gaze turned to the woman hosting the evening’s event.

Cindy’s warm smile was designed to put everyone at ease, and seemed to do the trick. “First off, I want to thank everyone for coming tonight, and I hope you all have a good time getting to know one another.”

She went on to explain the rules, which were simple and straightforward. They’d all received a scorecard, which they could use to write down notes during their quick, seven-minute dates. Ultimately, they had to check the YES or NO box next to the name of each person they met, depending on whether or not they’d made a connection and were interested in a future date with that individual. At the end of the session they’d turn in their scorecards, and those who’d mutually chosen each other by checking YES would be e-mailed by Cindy tomorrow morning with further information on behalf of the interested parties. Regrettably, only exact matches would be given contact information.

No regrets about it. Nathan was relieved he wouldn’t have to worry about a potential stalker.

Chairs and small tables had been set up in a large circle in the private room, and Cindy asked the women to take a seat at the table with the number that matched the one on their scorecard. The men were encouraged to do the same. Pink ended up at table number three, while Nathan had to sit at number seven.

Because the men were the ones to move from table to table, he had to get through eleven women just to get his seven-minute date with Pink, who’d given him one last slow, sensual smile before returning her gaze to the guy sitting in front of her.

Satisfied the event was ready to begin, Cindy set the timer for the first seven minutes. “Relax, have fun, and good luck, everyone.”

And so it began… the personal questions from the string of women he met, the hopeful, one-sided interest, and the casual interrogations for the sole purpose of sizing him up as that one guy who lived up to their high standards. He deliberately kept the verbal exchanges light and pleasant, and was careful not to lead any of the women on.

As each round ended and Nathan came closer to reaching Pink’s table, the excitement of finally meeting her, the anticipation of talking to her, grew. He was curious to know more about her, to see if those vibes lasted beyond their initial introduction.

Then again, she could be all fluff, a pretty face and a killer body with no substance. What a crying shame that would be.

Two more rounds passed, and then it finally happened. He was sitting across from Pink, who smelled good enough to eat. He inhaled the scent of something sweet, like a rich buttercream-frosted vanilla cupcake, and knew it was her. The thought of her tasting as good as the luscious scent emanating from her aroused him on a multitude of levels, and had him shifting in his seat.

The smile lifting her glossy lips was filled with feminine awareness, and up close, he couldn’t help but notice she had the most fascinating eyes-a stunning, deep, dark, velvet blue that seemed to seduce and mesmerize.

Admittedly, he was both. And that just didn’t happen to him when it came to women. She intrigued him, and if he played his cards right and they clicked beyond this basic physical chemistry, maybe they could get together later this evening-before he immersed himself in his new identity and the Ramsey case.

The bell rang, and the session began.

“Well, we finally meet,” she drawled, her warm, friendly voice making him feel instantly at ease. “I’m Nicole.”

“Nathan.” He reached across the table and shook her hand, not at all surprised to find her grip firm, but her skin womanly soft, as it should be. He wondered if she was equally soft and supple everywhere, and instinctively knew she would be.

She tipped her head ever so slightly, causing her soft, wavy hair to caress her shoulders, which also drew his gaze to the gentle swells of flesh pushing against the low-cut bodice of her dress. Her breasts were small, but definitely more than enough for him to enjoy.

“So, how are you holding up after all these quickie dates?” she asked, the tinkling sound of the silver bracelets on her wrist snapping him out of his lust-induced thoughts.

Realizing he was spending an inordinate amount of time eyeing her chest, he dragged his gaze back up to hers, not sure what to expect. He was a healthy, red-blooded man, therefore a visual creature by nature. Certainly she couldn’t blame him for admiring her sweet curves and perfect-looking breasts. And judging by the amused glimmer in her eyes, she didn’t seem to mind at all.

Okay, if he remembered correctly, she’d asked him how he was holding up after more than an hour of pure dating torture. “Well, the good news is, the end is in sight.” He grinned.

She laughed in agreement and picked up the pen resting on top of a small notebook next to her on the table. The top page had been filled with what looked like comments and notes, and she flipped to a clean piece of paper. “You’re not having a good time?”

Considering how every other woman had started right in with the soul-searching, dirt-digging, relationship-seeking questions and tried cramming as much information as she could into her seven minutes, this woman’s ordinary conversation surprised him, in a good way. He relaxed and decided to be honest with her.