"I DON'T THINK we should see each other anymore."
Jenny Moore blinked through her first date nervousness to
stare at the heartbreak hero who'd made the unexpected
pronouncement. The clank of bar glasses and buzz of a
hundred conversations faded in the face of her abject
mortification in a back booth of an Atlantic City
nightspot. Surely she'd misunderstood him.
"Our drinks haven't even made it to the table yet and
you're breaking up with me?" Jenny knew she wasn't every
man's fantasy date, but she'd done everything right with
this executive of a Jersey engineering firm she'd met
online a few weeks ago. She'd gotten to know him through
an Internet dating service first. Exchanged e-mails
through the private addresses supplied by the company.
Tonight she'd been careful to play it cool with him even
though she battled a few personal phobias about being out
in public. Meeting David Brady in person was half the
reason she'd come to the conference in Atlantic City โ a
city she'd never liked in the first place, even if she
didn't suffer from mild agoraphobia that made it tough to
leave her apartment under any normal circumstances.
Today was fast becoming far from normal. "I'm sorry, Jen,
but I just don't think I can take things as slow as you'd
like me to." He gave her a lopsided grin that might have
been endearing if she hadn't wanted to box his ears for
not giving her a chance to jump his bones โ loser or
not. "I just think we need to be open and honest with each
other about our expectations, don't you?"
In an e-mail, she could have handled that question. She'd
built up a million-dollar empire selling luxury goods
online through De-Luxe, her successful brainchild run from
the isolated safety of her home office. But now, face-to-
face with a man in a situation that made her nervous to
begin with, she was more likely to break out in hives than
form an intelligent response.
"H-honesty?" Her breath caught in her throat while she
tried to ward off a bout of hyperventilation sure to come
if this man โ a man who'd finally seemed like her chance
for intimacy โ truly dumped her in the retro lobby bar of
Quintessence Hotel and Casino ten minutes after their
first live meet.
She'd never been a fan of dating, but this encounter was
off the charts in the hideous department.
"It's not that I don't like you. I've had a great time e-
mailing with you the past few weeks." The object of her
online affection rose from the table and snagged a pen off
the nearby bar, dodging the flirtatious waitress who
brought Jenny's drink โ a pink halo โ and his double shot
of scotch. He passed the server a twenty with a wink and
proceeded to scribble on a turquoise-colored cocktail
napkin with his pilfered pen, a fat ruby winking on what
looked like a university ring around his finger. "I closed
my e-mail account with the dating service, but feel free
to contact me at this address if De-Luxe ever gets in
those platinum nameplates we talked about. Gotta be the
first in town to have one for my desk."
With a quick kiss to her cheek, David grabbed his drink
and sailed out of the bar, taking his khaki-clad cute butt
and her only opportunity to score this week-end โ maybe
this whole flipping year โ along with him.
Damn it.
Jenny couldn't even look at the fizzy pink halo she'd
ordered when she first sat down. Her drink order had been
an optimistic choice. How much more upbeat could you get
than pink and fizzy? David's retreat had put her in more
of a Bloody Mary mood.
"Can I get you anything else?" The busty waitress with
long, dark hair peered down at Jenny's untouched cocktail
once she finally yanked her gaze off of Jenny's departing
date.
Thank God the server was a woman, even if the dishy chick
had flirted outrageously with David when she'd taken their
order. In general, Jenny did better face-to-face with
strange women. Strange men were normally more
intimidating. But between the online photo of David and
their exchanged e-mails, she'd actually thought she had a
chance of making it through a dinner with him. Possibly
more.
"My friend's a doctor and he just got called away," Jenny
lied in a face-saving effort, embarrassed to her toes to
have a bar server feeling sorry for her. "I guess I'll
just head back to my room."
Scooping up the napkin with David's e-mail address, Jenny
rose from the table and headed for the elevator, her silky
skirt that felt so sexy against her legs an hour ago now
reminding her with each swish what a failure the night had
been. She would not let herself contact a man who wasn't
even patient enough to sit through drinks with her, so she
didn't know why she clutched the stupid napkin in a death
grip.
"Loser." Punching the elevator button, she told herself
she would simply enjoy the conference from a self-help
guru who'd written a series of books on nurturing mental
help through alternative therapies that she was attending
this week. She'd even been chosen to participate in a
special forum with a research group compiling data on
agoraphobics, so she could help along other people with
issues similar to hers.
Although, it would have been nice to have indulged in some
sensual therapy in addition to the mental coping
strategies offered at the conference. Jenny had made an
art form out of finding all her life needs online, but
there were still a couple of crucial ones that couldn't be
procured on the Internet.
A real relationship, for one.
Real sex for another.
Staring blankly at an ad for the hotel's boardwalk casino,
she smoothed out the napkin with David's address as the
elevator button chimed for her floor. He had said he was
concerned about how slowly she'd wanted to take things.
But surely that was a reaction to the fact that she'd
confided her privacy issues with him via e-mail before
they met in person. Maybe he'd just assumed she would want
to move slowly after they met since she'd taken plenty of
time to get to know him first.
And if that's what he thought, didn't she owe it to
herself to clarify his mistake?
Loser or not, Dave Brady was a known quantity and Jenny
wouldn't let this prime candidate for a fling slip away
without exerting a little more effort. She needed a
transition man while she worked her way up to a real
relationship, and Dave had "temporary" written all over
him.
Hot and lonesome and tired of worrying about her problems,
Jenny unlocked her room and headed straight for her laptop
on the king-size bed at the back of the suite. David might
not be the most suave of guys, but he was a damn sight
more fine than the men in her limited experience.
db@shoreengineers was about to find out how quickly she
could move when it came to scratching a sexual itch.
DEVON BAINES loosened his tie as he slammed the hotel door
behind him. Conferences sucked. Not because he didn't
enjoy engineering. On the contrary, the workshops kicked
ass and the chance to school the new kids about real-world
projects was a guaranteed good time. But the bs networking
which amounted to listening to a bunch of long-winded
geeks sing their own praises...
Granted, he had low tolerance for people in general. An
even lower tolerance for people who talked a big game and
didn't have the smarts to back it up. Thank God he'd
brought his laptop so he could escape the social pressures
of conference hell for a few hours. Cracking open the
computer, he flexed his fingers and clicked the keys that
would connect him to his message box.
His watch said it was just past midnight as he slid into
one of the Lucite chairs at the ultramodern wet bar just
off the kitchen of his suite. Spotting the round of new e-
mails, he scrolled over the mundane reminders from various
project managers about in-house responsibilities and a
couple of notes from friends in the industry that probably
contained good luck sentiments or possible job offers.
Instead, his gaze lingered on an unfamiliar address, a
personal note that didn't suggest he'd won a foreign
lottery or that he needed Viagra.
As if.
The note from "deluxegirl" read:
I didn't know what to say to you in the lobby bar tonight,
but I came to the conference this week just to meet you in
person. I'm not a woman who takes things slowly. When I
see something I want, I go after it.
And I want you. Naked, hot and ready for me. I'm in room
1016 if you're interested in seeing where things lead
tonight.
Jenny
Devon stared at the note, wondering who the hell Jenny
could be. An engineering colleague from another firm?
Obviously, the message writer was staying here at
Quintessence so it made sense she'd be connected to the
business if she was here for the conference. The time on
the note read 11:55 p.m., shortly before he'd left the
party full of windbags downstairs. He'd been in the
fifties-style lobby bar a handful of times that night,
mostly because the lines were shorter there than inside
the welcome reception and he'd bought drinks for some
friends he hoped to do business with as a freelance
consultant.
Finger hovering over the delete key, Devon tapped lightly
on the button without actually pressing. He shouldn't be
interested in some sordid interlude with a woman he might
possibly cross paths with again in his profession.
And yet...
How long had it been since he'd lost himself in sweaty,
all-night sex? For a man who appreciated every nuance of
amusement park rides in his gig as a mechanical engineer,
he sure did deprive himself of the best thrill on earth.
Lifting his hand away from the keyboard, he left the
message intact but flipped down the screen. As if that
would keep him from thinking about the mystery invitation
and the potential adventure waiting one floor above him.
Suddenly thirsty, he unbuttoned his pinstriped shirt as he
headed for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water
at the black marble sink with slightly gaudy โ but
probably pricey โ gold fixtures. He didn't need this kind
of temptation with his whole future career teetering on
his personal reputation. But he never indulged himself,
damn it. Why should he say no now when a primo opportunity
landed in his lap?
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