Jill Shalvis: Seduce Me

Get on with this? "A real charmer," Sam said beneath her breath.

"I'm sure he's just-"

Another knock. "Hello in there?"

"-in a hurry," Lorissa finished weakly. "Yeah, well, he'd better be hot," Sam whispered, and with one last deep breath, hauled open the door.

And came face to face with her date. Or more accurately, her date's broad, wide chest. "I think he's got the hot covered," Lorissa whispered in her ear.

Good thing she was a fairly tall woman herself, Sam thought vaguely, tilting her head back to catch sight of his face, because the guy had to be six and a half feet tall.

"Oh, good," he said with obvious relief, running his gaze down her own five-foot-ten willowy body. "You're ready." He held out his arm, which she didn't take.

"I don't go out with nameless men," she said.

He looked surprised, as if shocked she had no idea who he was. "Jack Knight," he said in that slightly husky voice.

Okay, not a bad name, she'd give him that. In fact, it sounded vaguely familiar… "Sam O'Ryan."

"Yes, I know. Nice to meet you." He was wearing a tux and a frown, and to her relief, wasn't ugly or fat, but quite…

Actually, Lorissa had put it most aptly. Hot. He had dark hair and even darker eyes, a wide, sensual mouth that wasn't smiling at the moment but seemed to have good potential, and a strong jaw covered in a barely there five o'clock shadow, all on top of a long, lean, tough body… Nice combo, she'd admit that.

Not that she was hung up on appearances, but on her run to the bathroom, she'd caught sight of the black Escalade out front. The guy was indeed rich and, as she'd told Lorissa, rich guys usually didn't have much else going for them. So really, she didn't hold out much hope for this one.

But she was committed to tonight. With a last look over her shoulder at Lorissa, she settled her hand on his arm and let him lead her out of the café.

"We probably should have met at a safer location than this," Jack said. As they walked outside into air that was no cooler than the café bathroom had been, he favored his right leg, but she didn't say anything about it because he'd sidetracked her with the "safe" comment. She glanced back at the Wild Cherries sign she'd painted herself five years ago when she'd bought the place from Red.

"It's perfectly safe," she said.

"Now, maybe, but I don't want to drop you off at some isolated hole-in-the-wall later tonight when it's dark. There are no lights out here."

"Watch it," she warned lightly. "I own this hole-in-the-wall, and happen to be quite fond of it, lights or no." She wasn't open at night, so she'd never felt the need to add outdoor lighting.

He glanced at her as he unlocked the passenger door with his remote, but she avoided his gaze until he opened the door and turned his body, blocking her way into his SUV with those long arms and broad shoulders.

Not fond of intimidation, she tipped her head up and slowly cocked a brow, then realized… he wasn't trying to intimidate her at all. Not with his eyes filled with apology and self-deprecation.

"I didn't mean-"

"Forget it." She wasn't willing to fall for a simple sweet look, not when, for all she knew, the man might be full of them.

"No, really." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and met her sardonic gaze. "Look, obviously, I've made a hell of a first impression."

She felt a smile curve her mouth. "Do you care?"

"Actually, I didn't plan to. But…"

"But…?"

His gaze danced over her features. "I find that I do care." His smile was slow and genuine, and made her tummy flutter. "I want to enjoy this evening with you."

"Why? Because I'm passably pretty?"

"More than passably," he said lightly. "But no, I don't suddenly want to enjoy this just because you turned out to be an extremely pleasant surprise, but because we might as well have fun."

"You mean for two people who didn't want to do this in the first place?"

His smile went to a grin that jump-started her pulse, startling her. "Yeah, something like that."

"Stop that," she said, pointing at his mouth.

"Stop… what?"

"Smiling."

"Why? Do I have something in my teeth?"

He knew he didn't. A guy like this knew exactly how good he looked. "Okay, listen. I'm going to be honest with you right from the get-go."

"Please."

"I have a long, horrible, nasty history with blind dates, and I'd talked myself into lumping you in with the worst of them, but I can't do that when you smile."

The grin only spread. "Really? Well, same goes. I have an idea. Why don't we start over." He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Jack Knight."

"I'm not going to commit to starting over, not yet. You might still turn out to be a blind-date disaster."

"Yeah." He rubbed his jaw. "You might be right."

She climbed into his Escalade. "I usually am."

His soft laugh scraped low in her belly. "Something tells me this is going to be a much more interesting night than I could have imagined."

"Is that good or bad?"

He came around and slid his long body in behind the wheel. He looked at her as he started the engine. "Not sure yet."

"So we'll leave that up in the air as well." With that, Sam put on her seat belt and braced herself for the evening ahead.

But she had a little smile of anticipation on her face.

Once upon a time, scandal had been Jack's middle name. Jack Scandal Knight.

Not that he'd asked for such a rep. Nope, he'd been tried and convicted in the court of the tabloids, without a jury of his peers. But that was in the past.

Tonight, he'd pulled out his tux with a simple goal in mind-get the evening over with as fast and painlessly as possible. No scandal. No surprises. No nothing. Just show up, raise more money for his sister's beloved charity that helped underprivileged kids, then go on his merry way.

Should be easy, given that over the past year he'd become the master of fast and painless, at least as far as public appearances went. The trick was to be visible, but not approachable. Pleasant and professional, but not particularly nice. This talent had been hard-earned, costing him unknown amounts of heartache and grief, but it was a rule he assumed every celebrity eventually learned, one way or another.

All he had to do was arrive at the country club with a date in tow, and his sister would stop pestering him, at least for the evening. Maybe even by some miracle the press would stop hounding him, but he wouldn't hold his breath on that one.

He'd never really been out of the media's spotlight, but that went back to that Jack Scandal Knight thing. He'd have figured no one was interested now that he was no longer in the public eye, but just last week he'd gone to a Dodgers game with a group of friends, where for a few blissful hours he'd eaten hot dogs and had a few beers. After the game, he'd stopped to take a leak and a reporter had come up next to him at the urinal, shoved a camera in his face, blinding him with the flash, and, oh, by the way, could he sign an autograph as well? Jack had looked down at the offered pen, and then farther, to where his hands were busy, and had little choice but to laugh. Before or after I finish here, he'd wanted to ask. Five days later, it was splashed all over the rags that he'd been rude and refused to give out autographs.

That was the problem with being a basketball icon known for flying down the court, averaging thirty plus points a game. There was no privacy anywhere. It had been a year since his bum knee had taken him out of the NBA, and his San Diego Eels contract. A year.

The paparazzi had been all over him at first, following his every sneeze, apparently not noticing or caring that the difficult decision and subsequent announcement of his retirement had nearly destroyed him.