Jennifer Probst - Searching for Someday

The kiss haunted him.

Caught up in their banter at the gym, Slade decided to test the waters. Just once. He ached to kiss her, glean if her lips really tasted like the cotton candy he adored, and put to rest some of the crackling sexual tension.

Instead, he’d been electrocuted and shredded to pieces by a clawing hunger to have her. Mate, claim, possess. It was as if his inner caveman sprang to life and he’d sunk to an animal instinct. Her taste was like pure sugar, and once he got a sample he was afraid he’d be addicted. He expected teasing, warm, and satisfying. He got hot sex and pure need.

They hadn’t spoken since she ran away. He figured they both needed to process in order to decide the next step. Not that there would be a next step. She refused to date clients. He intended to prove her fraudulent. She said love was real, he said it was an illusion. Just because the sex would rock didn’t mean any type of relationship would. He agreed it would be smarter to leave her alone, let the tension settle a bit, and move on.

But he didn’t want to.

She wore her usual black, a sexy lace T-shirt, silk trousers, and those delicious spiked black boots. Her hair was pinned back today in a sophisticated twist thing that only made him long to rip out the pin and thrust his fingers in gold silk. Her no-nonsense manner and cool gaze told him her position without a word.

Get over it.

He wished he could.

When he heard about the mandatory makeover, Slade insisted Kate be there. She tried to escape by citing Kennedy as the expert, but he insisted she be present to oversee the whole thing. He needed another shot at trying to figure her out and this crazy connection thing.

“First off, don’t think this is all about tweaking your appearance to make you hotter. You’re pretty much already there, as you well know.”

He fought off a blush as they both stared at him. “Uh, thanks. I think. So what are we doing?”

“Appearance is the first impression we give on a date. You have a public job so you need to keep a certain persona in the courtroom. But I wanted to ask you a few questions. What do you wear on a first date?”

Kennedy pursed her lips. The man in him recognized she exuded lust in her lush, sensual manner, from her full red mouth to her ripe curves. Funny, he just didn’t ache to touch or taste her like the woman who stood beside her. Slade refocused and tried not to sigh at the ridiculous question. He was wasting valuable time here. “Standard stuff. Usually pants and a casual jacket and tie.”

“Always a tie?”

He tamped down on his impatience. “Of course.”

“Shoes?”

He tried not to roll his eyes. “Dress shoes.”

“Hmm.” She made a note on her pad. “How do you dress on the weekends?”

“Khakis. T-shirt. Loafers.”

“Got it. Do you need the glasses to see?”

He touched the gold-rim frames. “These? Mostly reading, but I tend to wear them all the time now.”

“Interesting.” She scribbled something else. He tried not to crane his neck to peek. “Do you prefer certain colors?”

Slade glanced at his Cartier watch and blew out a breath. “Black, gray, and blue. Classical.”

Kennedy smiled. “Thank you.” She stood and walked to the far side of the room, sliding open pocket doors to reveal an enormous storage closet. As she hummed under her breath, he heard her sifting through hangers, pulling a variety of items and slinging them over her arm. He tried to catch Kate’s gaze, but she pretended to study her friend’s notes, refusing to look up. Frustration twisted his gut.

“Here we go. Try all these on.” She dumped a pile of clothes, shoes, and belts in his lap.

Slade stared. “What’s all this?”

“Your makeover. Glasses off, please.”

He flung up his hand like she was a demon. “I like wearing my glasses.”

“I know. You use them as a barrier to keep yourself removed and distant. Like looking out to the world through a pane of glass. If you don’t need them to see, they’re not needed. Hand them over.”

He studied her determined expression with growing horror. They were all nuts. Maybe not legally fraudulent, but the inane things a client had to go through to get a date were unbelievable. Slade ripped them off and pushed them into her palm. “Fine.”

She pointed to the right. “Changing area is over there. We’ll wait.”

His lips twisted in a sneer. Slade grabbed the clothes, walked out the door, and changed. With every minute that passed, his temper grew. He was a Harvard graduate, a well-respected attorney, and never had a problem getting a date. How dare they judge him? He was always open and charming on a date. He elicited information from his companion, used humor, and always listened attentively. Slade belted the jeans, shoved his feet into the shoes, and yanked on the shirt. Refusing to glance in the mirror, he marched out like a penguin on parade and simmered with temper.

“Here. Satisfied?”

Kennedy grinned like the badass she was. But it was the look in Kate’s eyes that froze him to the spot.

Hunger.

He dragged in a lungful of air and drank in her expression. Eyes wide, she ate him up with her gaze, a feminine appreciation gleaming deep within ocean depths. Kennedy strolled over, adjusted his shirt collar, smoothed out some wrinkles, and turned him toward the mirror.

“Want me to tell you what I see now? I see a man who works hard but knows how to take it down a notch. A man open to the unknown, ready to be a bit vulnerable and give a bit of himself to his date. You see, Slade, I think your clothes were used as a type of armor. A suit and tie scream business dinner. Formality. But this shows your true personality and allows your date to feel as if you are as engaged as she is.”

Slade almost snickered at her speech over a silly outfit. Until he saw himself in the mirror.

He looked . . . different. The dark jeans clung to his thighs and gave him a rougher edge than his usual polished look. The shirt was black and holy mother of God—pink. Pink cuffs and a stitched collar open at the neck molded to his chest. The shirt was left loose and not tucked in. The shoes were low leather boots that he never would have tried, thinking them too European, but they gave him an understated polish yet brought it up a notch. Without his glasses, his face seemed more vulnerable, and he blinked at his image, trying to take it all in.

He never wore jeans, but they were both comfortable and gave him a freedom he didn’t realize he was lacking. In some half-assed way, Kennedy was right. He did keep himself distant in a lot of ways. His thoughts flashed to Jane and the steps she may be going through.

“Did my sister go through the same process?”

Kennedy’s face softened. “I meet with Jane this week. We’ve had plenty of sessions together, and I know her vulnerabilities. I promise you, Slade, your sister is in very good hands. I would never hurt her.”

His throat tightened and he managed a nod. Somehow, someway, he actually believed her.

“What do you think, Kate?”

Slade slid his gaze to meet hers in the mirror after Kennedy’s question. A low hum buzzed between them. Seconds ticked by. The tension cranked another excruciating notch, until he locked down his muscles in an effort not to grow to full staff under her heated stare.

“I think he’s ready.”

Her husky drawl broke the spell. Kennedy nodded in agreement. “Wear this to the mixer. I’m going to take a shopping trip with you later on in the week and make sure you have a few outfits. Of course, it’s on Kinnections, part of the package experience.”

“I have to go, I have a meeting. See you Friday night, Slade.”

Kate hurried out of the room.