Michelle Monkou - The One That I Want

“Okay, mystery man,” she said in a husky voice that sounded like an old jazz singer’s. “We’ll play it your way. I like solving puzzles.”

“Nothing much to know.” And he meant it as a curtain to keep out her curiosity.

She shrugged, but he saw the interest intensify like so many did at mention of the Meadowses. She looked poised for any discovery. Her gaze recorded everything. If he stumbled and opened access to his life, she’d pounce without hesitation. While he had no intention of opening up about who he was because who really knew what had triggered her attention? On the other hand, he didn’t want his reluctance to end their conversation.

“Mild temperatures for the time of the year. More than chilly tonight, though.”

Laxmi signaled to the bartender for a refill. “Looks like we’ll stay in the safe zone and chat about the weather. Or maybe we can talk politics?”

Dresden made a face. “That’s depressing.”

She tapped her cheek with her finger, as if mulling over her next move. The nail polish perfectly matched the bloodred lip color. “Relationship status?”

His cough erupted and fizzled into a nervous chuckle from her direct blast into his personal life. His lack of a current girlfriend wasn’t a secret, but he was used to being in the driver’s seat when testing new terrain.

“It’s not a hard question.” Her voice turned an edge frosty. “Unless you’re about to lie.”

“Single.” He gulped a mouthful of beer.

“Good.”

His eyebrow hitched up with his shock that she was interested in him—and for more than passing time at a party.

Problem was, and he did see it as a problem, he was interested in her, too. He cleared his throat. His body was reacting without waiting for his mind to catch up. “Are you...single?”

She nodded.

“Not that I’m trying to pick you up.” He shook his head. “Commitment-phobe here. And work pretty much takes up my life.” Damn. He wanted to kiss those lips, smear that color right off.

The way his body short-circuited over her, he needed to set the record straight not only for her, but mainly for him.

But now his imagination wouldn’t stop its what-if scenarios. What if those long, manicured fingernails that tapped the bar’s counter could one day rake along the length of his back as they lay together?

He shifted his stance, wishing he could walk off the aroused tightness in his crotch. His eyes squeezed shut as he urged his libido to get it together. Maybe he needed a double shot of oxygen to clear away these thoughts.

“You’re a cop? Fireman? Navy SEAL?”

Dresden laughed and shook his head. “Professor. I teach history and write articles. Working on a book now.”

“Top secret?”

“My family tree in the context of Canada’s black history. I’m Canadian, by the way.”

“You keep getting more interesting. Sounds like your project is a lot of work, but also eye-opening for the curious-minded.”

He nodded, unable to withhold his appreciation that she showed interest in his work.

“And you haven’t managed to squeeze in a significant other?”

“I have. That’s how I know that it’s not happening anytime soon.” Despite the casual way she’d tossed out the question, he’d heard judgment.

“That’s better than saying ‘not in this lifetime.’”

Dresden didn’t respond. While she operated as being cool and confident, he could barely keep up with his unaffected demeanor under her pointed questions.

“You gotta give a woman a teensy bit of hope or they won’t stick around to talk to you when there’s a kick-butt party going on over her shoulder.” A smidgen of a smile curled her lips.

Dresden got the message, but this wasn’t the place to pick up anyone, even if she was rocking her tiny red minidress. And even if it fit like a tight glove around her curves at the top and at the bottom—He took another sip.

Reality check to self: hooking up at Grace Meadows’s party couldn’t happen. Shouldn’t happen.

“Let me guess.” She leaned toward him. He tried not to be caught in her weblike aura, but he leaned toward her. Couldn’t help it. That damned perfume rendered him weak. “You look out at these strangers in this backdrop with doubt, maybe condemnation. I can see it on your face. You’re dismissive of them for whatever reasons. That’s sad. Because you’re looking at me with a lot of suspicion mixed with wariness, as if I were about to suggest a one-night stand.”

Dresden choked on his drink. Her boldness, her accuracy about his attraction to her, rattled his nerves. He shook his head. He’d never own up to lusting after her.

“And on that note, it’s been an interesting few minutes with you, Dresden. See you around...if it’s meant to be.” Laxmi offered her hand once more.

This time he was prepared for the intense pleasure of holding it.

Or so he’d thought. He hadn’t expected the slight squeeze of her hand before she released his with the bonus of a slow wink.

Like a magician, she flipped a business card out of her pocketbook and extended it to him from between her fingers.

“Aren’t you afraid that I might use your card as a bookmark?” His voice croaked. Must not give in.

“Nah.” Once he took the card, she continued. “I’ll stay confident that you’ll call.”

Every part of him cheered in agreement. However, to pretend otherwise, to maintain his plan to be unavailable, thanks to her base in New York and his in Toronto, he simply slipped the card into his inside jacket pocket and picked up his drink. “Have a good night.”

She was gone before he’d finished talking. Her exit had as much flair as her style. The formfitting dress left admirers—and him—gawking as she cut a path with a supermodel strut to the front of the room.

Meeting her was worth the entire night’s experience. She had the unique appeal to wake him up and make him interested in something other than his current issues. Though she’d left, his system still savored the aftereffect of her energy.

Once Laxmi disappeared from his view, Dresden sighed. The fun part of the night was over. Time to grit his teeth, suck it up and formally be part of Grace Meadows’s birthday bash.

Chapter 2

The music faded into the rumbling din of the guests. The clink of glass and buzz of conversation accompanied Dresden’s solitary walk to the head table.

Lights suddenly dimmed over the room, wrapping everyone in soft white lights that glittered off the chandeliers. The waitstaff efficiently slipped to the perimeter of the room with dirty dishes in tow. Stage lights now brightened a wide path for the mistress of ceremonies, who’d stepped forward to take charge. Her booming voice commandeered everyone’s attention as she announced that the planned program for the birthday celebration would begin.

An eager attendant, scrubbed and polished, quickly inserted himself into Dresden’s space, blocking his progress to the Meadowses. “Are you part of the VIPs?” He pointed to his wrist and tapped his finger on the spot.

Dresden stared at him, clueless as to the meaning of the signal.

“VIPs have a purple bracelet. Do you have your invitation?”

Dresden nodded and showed it.

The eager and now annoyed attendant cleared his throat as he closely read the paper. “Okay. Here’s your bracelet.”

Dresden took the simple band and slipped it on. He squashed the stubborn urge to refuse this anointed VIP status and risk the attendant’s disdain. His DNA connection to the Meadowses changed nothing. With his personal life and career pursuit solidly middle of the road, he had no experience with the airs and graces that surrounded this family.

While the emcee continued on with her introductions, he turned himself over to his escort and followed along to the head table.