Mia Zachary - Afternoon Delight

The next five or six men were no better and she got the distinct impression that this new nightclub was something of a meat market. To P.J.’s credit, she subtly accepted a couple phone numbers but stayed by her side. Finally the second round of shot glasses arrived. Rei accepted the drink, but decided it was already her last.

“What are we toasting this time?”

“To new adventures.” Her friend’s eyes covetously followed a hot guy walking past.

She touched her glass to P.J.’s then drained it. Almost immediately, she felt the alcohol’s fire spread through her, easing the tension in muscles she hadn’t realized were tight with stress. She felt light-headed, but in a good way, as if all the censuring voices in her mind had been momentarily silenced.

Rei closed her eyes, focusing on the music and chatter, the press of bodies, the faint odor of sweat and perfume. Her heart had taken on the rhythm of the music and, though the setting was incongruous for yoga, she allowed herself to be truly in the moment. Nothing mattered except being right here, right now.

“Let’s go dance!”

Laughing at the stunned expression on P.J.’s face—usually she had to be coaxed out to the floor—she began weaving her way toward the stage. Once she reached the orchestra pit, she created a space and made room for her friend. P.J. easily got into the groove, her curvy body wriggling to the up-tempo music. Rei wasn’t nearly as athletic, but quickly found her own shuffle-step-shimmy routine.

She became aware of men approaching from the sidelines and started to turn so that P.J. could shield her, then mentally shrugged. She didn’t know anyone here, would probably never be in this place again. Through the mega-watt sound system, Christina Aguilera invited her to get “Dirrty.” Rei gave herself over to the idea. The music was hot and so was she. Why not take a risk?

Why not let go and “dance like she didn’t care if anyone was watching”?

“I’M GLAD YOU CAME with me, man. I can’t handle all those babes by myself.” Grant Bronson shoved a hand over his hair, making the already chaotic strands arch into spikes.

As they walked across the hotel lobby from the parking garage, Chris reached over to subtly knock Grant’s hand down. “First off, don’t think of them as ‘babes.’ They’re people, just like us. With the same anxieties and hang-ups and goals. Come on. It’s a night out at a club, not the Inquisition.”

“I’m terrible at this stuff, though. I get all tongue-tied and say something stupid or make an ass of myself.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt.

“Relax. There’s no agenda for tonight.”

Grant flinched then covered it with a grin. “I thought we came here so I can pick up babes?”

Chris held back a sigh. He’d known Grant vaguely in college, but tonight he was a client. He was a good-looking guy but it was obvious why he had trouble with relationships. He wasn’t getting it that his attitude could make or break him.

“We came here to have a few drinks and meet some new people. The idea isn’t to have sex, ask for a date or even get a phone number. All we want to do this first time out is assess your technique and make any necessary adjustments.”

He tried to remember the last time he’d gone out for something other than work. Whether it was with a friend or a client, he seemed to spend more time giving advice than making use of it. Rachel had labeled him as only good for sex, but he hadn’t been with a woman in months.

Grant’s head swung around to ogle a young woman walking out of the elevator. “Wow, did you see her?”

“Yes and unfortunately she saw you, too. Put your tongue back in your face.” Chris pulled up short of the nightclub’s side entrance, dragging Grant over to a potted plant by the hotel concierge desk. “Listen to me. You’re blowing it before you’ve even begun.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know it’s hard to be yourself when you think ‘yourself’ isn’t good enough. But you only get one chance to make a first impression. It’s true in business and even more important in potential relationships. That is what you want, right? Because I’m not a pimp. If all you’re looking for is an easy lay, you’re on your own.”

Grant’s eyes had widened at the tersely delivered lecture, but now he looked at Chris with respect, as if he were somehow surprised. “Okay, you’re right. Okay. I’m just nervous, that’s all. I told you I always make an ass of myself by saying something stupid.”

“In that case, rule number one is don’t talk.”

“Huh?”

“Women appreciate being listened to. So introduce yourself, ask about her then shut up and listen. Okay? Let’s go.” Chris walked toward the side entrance to Divas.

Grant caught up to match his stride. “I think it’s cool that you’re doing this.”

“It’s part of the job. No big deal,” Chris offered.

“Do you give all your clients this kind of personal attention?”

“Of course. We make every effort to help people identify what makes them unique and—”

“No, I don’t mean the party line. I’m talking about tonight’s field trip and the clothes shopping last week. Does everybody get that or am I special somehow?”

From the minute he’d signed up for Lunch Meetings services, Grant had been full of questions, more so than most. It was starting to get on Chris’s nerves…and to make him suspicious. “I can’t discuss my other clients with you.”

“Okay, it’s cool. Let’s talk about you then. Where’s your other half tonight?”

Chris felt his jaw clench as he prepared to lie. “She had other plans.”

Grant looked him in the eye and smiled. “Too bad. I’d love to see what kind of woman dates a date doctor.”

So would a lot of other people. Chris was beginning to wonder if he should ask some good-looking friend to act as his girlfriend. Then he could stop hiding his single status and take advantage of the publicity that legitimate newspaper interviews would garner. Word of mouth would only take Lunch Meetings so far, and he really wanted to open those other locations.

They went inside and Chris led Grant to the bar where he ordered two bottles of domestic beer. The ice-cold brew was welcome, considering the heat generated by the lights and the press of bodies. He returned the smile of a woman who passed by, but made no effort to follow her. He was on the job.

Raising his voice to be heard, Chris asked Grant to point out a woman he found attractive and tell him why. Then he sent him off to try and engage her in conversation. Over the next half hour, he crashed, burned and recovered with Chris’s help. Finally Grant ended up with a hot looking blonde in a pink bra and black mini-skirt, leaving him alone at the bar.

With a sense of both pride and relief, Chris ordered another beer and turned his attention to the blonde’s friend. Now there was a man-eater if ever he’d seen one. The petite Asian woman was dressed to kill and her exotic appearance set her apart from the crowd, even in multi-cultural San Francisco.

Funny, though, she’d suddenly looked very lost when her friend went off with Grant….

Then the music changed, a slow seductive number that brought a delighted expression to her face. She began to move to the tempo, her hips rocking in time, while her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted to sing along. The way she danced was hypnotic and very, very arousing. She danced like she was making love.

Chris took a long pull from the beer bottle, trying to quench his sudden thirst. What he really wanted to taste was her—the golden skin, left bare by her outfit and begging to be licked. Her small but beautifully rounded breasts and that beauty mark near her mouth. Lord have mercy, just the thought of where he wanted those perfectly bowed lips left him aching.