Excerpt of Disaster Girl by Michelle Dayton

I squeezed onto the one open stool and looked around. Abigail hadn’t said much about her hacker friend’s appearance except that he was tall, skinny, and always wore jeans and a hoodie.

I checked out every guy at the bar, but nope. No Unabomber. I sent Abigail a text: Your friend is late. Can you send me his number? Do you have a pic of him, btw? It’s crowded in here.

Ten minutes later, Abigail hadn’t responded and no guy had approached me. I glanced down at my outfit. How had Abigail described me? Originally, I’d thought to wear a white, loose-fitting sort of peasant blouse with my jeans and boots. Maybe if I looked demure and innocent, he’d be more inclined to want to help. But then I figured that admitting I’d gone to a hotel room with a total stranger and made a sex tape would pretty much take the ingénue act off the table. So I’d worn what I normally wear when I go out on a Saturday night: a low-cut halter top. If my offer of a thousand bucks wasn’t enough to convince him, maybe my boobs would help.

The guy in the navy suit sitting next to me at the bar had certainly looked over at them several times. In fact, right this moment he was downright staring. Amused, I gazed straight at his face until he raised his eyes and noticed.

He flushed and grinned at the same time. Behind his black-framed glasses, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Sorry.”

I gave him a cheeky smile. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t put them out there if I didn’t want people to look.”

He snorted into his cocktail. “Are you always so candid?”

“Only to strangers,” I said truthfully. He laughed and finished his drink. It looked like a Manhattan, and I coveted it. Kat was driving so we’d had only one glass of wine with dinner, and I was ready for something a bit stronger. But I was saving that treat for whenever I finished making arrangements with Abigail’s contact.

He noticed me looking longingly at his glass. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I’m meeting with a colleague in a few minutes, and I don’t want him to bust me flirting.”

That explained the suit. The Gage was popular with investment bankers in the Loop, and high finance didn’t break on Saturdays.

“Are we flirting?” I flirted back. “So far you’ve just stared at my boobs and not bought me a drink. I don’t think you really brought your A game tonight.”

He turned on his stool to face me. “Oh, I brought it. I’m just very choosy about who I use it on.”

I scanned his tight hair, fresh shave, and crisp, blue tie. “Hmm. Well, definitely don’t waste it on me. You look good, but in my formidable experience, banker types aren’t good conversationalists and they’re selfish in bed.” I threw him a wide, sassy grin. I didn’t have Kat’s dimples, but I had straight white teeth and some cute eye crinkles myself.

His nostrils flared as he suppressed a surprised laugh. “That is very good to know. Thanks for sharing your assessment, and I’ll remember that the next time I run into a banker. Just out of curiosity, what would impress someone of your significant experience?”