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Authors: Kate Perry

BOOK: Project Date
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Maybe this date wasn’t such a great idea after all.
“Here you go.” He opened the door and handed me down into the passenger seat.
I waited till he settled in on his side before I said, “We could have walked. It’s not very far.”
“Walk?” His eyebrows twitched like he was trying to understand a foreign concept.
Ah. I nodded. “Are you from Los Angeles?”
“Originally, yes.” He smiled quizzically at me. “How did you know?”
I hid my grin by looking out the window. In college I had a friend from L.A. who would have been happy if she could have driven from class to class instead of walking. “Just a lucky guess.”
“Here we are,” Johnny said as he pulled into the narrow parking lot two seconds later. Literally.
I got out of the car. It didn’t occur to me to wait for him to open my door until I saw the dismayed expression on his face. Oops. To make up for it, I smiled really big and said, “I’ve been really looking forward to tonight.”
He brightened right up and took my arm. “Me too. I was surprised when you called me.”
“Oh?” Was that a good thing?
“We don’t interact at work much. Of course, I’d noticed you—” his grin was only slightly lecherous “—but I never considered asking you out.”
“Why not?”
“It wasn’t obvious.”
I frowned. I didn’t get a chance to ask what the hell that meant because he opened the door to Hurley’s and the maitre d’ swooped down on us. “Ms. Donovan. A pleasure to see you again. You look lovely this evening.”
“Hello, Jean.” His name was really Jose but that was a closely guarded secret.
Jean-Jose glanced at Johnny before returning his gaze to me. “Do you have a reservation this evening?”
I had to give him credit for not batting an eye. I’d been coming here at least twice a week with Barry for the past year (off and on). It must have been a shock (and somewhat scandalous) to see me with another man days after he’d seen me with my boyfriend.
Johnny cleared his throat. “Yes. Under Morgan.”
Jean-Jose nodded without looking at the reservation book. “Right this way.” He led us to the front dining room. I usually didn’t care where I sat, but tonight I was relieved to be where we were, right next to the gleaming oak bar. If the date went bad, at least I wouldn’t have to wait long for a drink. I could even get up and mix one myself if I got desperate.
But maybe I was wrong. The date started off rocky, but that didn’t mean it was going to tank. Johnny was still an okay candidate to present to Mom and Dad; I’d just have to get creative with his job description. And we’d have to take my Prius when we went to my parents’.
Jean-Jose pulled out my chair and waited patiently for me to sit. “Can I get you anything to drink while you peruse the menu?”
I wanted to order a beer—they carried Chimay here, which was right up there with Guinness—but Johnny beat me to it. “A bottle of champagne, please.”
“Excellent, sir.” Jean-Jose raised his brows at me, but didn’t say anything when I gave him a weak smile. Not letting it slip that I hated champagne, he went to obediently fulfill Johnny’s order. Good man, him. I briefly wondered if he was attached.
“I love champagne, don’t you?” my companion asked in happy anticipation.
“Hmm.” I smiled and widened my eyes in what I thought would look like excited agreement.
His brow wrinkled. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“For a moment you looked like you might be sick.”
Maybe I needed to take acting lessons.
Before he could make any more inquiries about my health, I asked Johnny a question of my own. “What did you mean when you said going out with me wasn’t obvious?”
He shrugged and opened his menu. “Just that it wouldn’t have occurred to me.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not my type.” He seemed to have realized he made a slight faux pas (my glare might have tipped him off), because he quickly appended his statement. “You’re hot, Mena, don’t get me wrong. But I usually go out with more conservative-looking women.”
I glanced down at myself. Conservative I was not.
“But then you asked me out and I thought what the hell.” He grinned suggestively. “I’m looking forward to my walk on the wild side.”
Oh, God. I rolled my eyes, snapped open my menu, and studied it like there was a quiz at the end of the evening. Johnny took my cue and lifted his as well.
Our waiter came with a couple of flutes cradled in one hand and the bottle cupped in the other. He chatted amiably about the specials while he popped the cork, poured us each a glass, took our order, and left us to enjoy our bubbly.
Johnny and I both took a tentative sip. Okay, actually I pretended to take a sip. I tilted the glass until the vile stuff touched my lips, but I didn’t open my mouth.
“This is great stuff. The right way to start off a beautiful evening with a beautiful girl.” Johnny raised his glass. “To us.”
Unimaginative, but I guessed it worked. I felt like I should say something too, but I didn’t know what. When in doubt, you could never go wrong by quoting MacGyver. “ ‘Water’s funny stuff.’”
He stared at me blankly.
Sigh. “Never mind.” I clinked my glass against his and pretended to take another drink.
Despite the champagne (and that fiendish comment that I wasn’t his type—I almost expected him to say I was lacking in bed too), I still had hopes that Johnny would be my new and improved Barry, so I tried to dazzle him with my clever wit. “Do you know why they call it hypertext?”
His brow furrowed as he thought about it. “Why?”
“Too much JAVA.” I burst out laughing, holding my stomach. I couldn’t help it—that joke always cracked me up. At least I didn’t fall off my seat this time.
I dabbed the tears at the corners of my eyes and smiled up at Johnny, expecting to see him sharing my mirth. I sobered when I caught him gawking at me like I was insane.
Okay, so he didn’t appreciate my humor. Not promising, but it was hardly a relationship breaker. I was sure we could connect on other levels. “So, Johnny, what time do you wake up in the mornings?”
He blinked at me and then downed his entire glass of champagne. He reached for the bottle to refill it. “Not too early.”
“I knew it.” I grinned, watching him pour the champagne to the very brim without spilling a drop over the side. Talented. “Me either. Mornings were intended for sleeping.”
“I know.” He flashed his Colgate smile at me. “I sleep in until about five-thirty and then I go for a run. Six if I’m feeling really lazy.”
“Six?” I choked on my spit, which meant I had to down some of the fizzy wine.
“I know. It’s decadent staying in bed that late.”
“You probably have a special alarm clock you take with you when you travel,” I accused him with narrowed eyes.
“I
never
leave home without my Sharper Image alarm clock.”
Shudder.
I was saved from having to reply by our waiter, who arrived with dinner. Johnny kept up a casual stream of conversation as we ate and, aside from the occasional question and intermittent nod, it didn’t require much effort on my part.
While we waited for our after-dinner espressos, I escaped to—I mean, excused myself to the restroom. I opened the door that hid the hallway to the bathrooms and promptly walked into someone. Someone who smelled delicious. (Though it might have been the scent of food from the kitchen.)
Large hands caught me before I ricocheted back into the dining area. “Steady there.”
I looked up and bit my lip so I wouldn’t say
hubba hubba
, because the man I’d walked into was a stud. Outdoorsy tanned, a great smile, and eyes that twinkled in mischief. Great body too—solid (I knew that because I’d bounced off it).
He stared at me, forehead wrinkled in concern. “Are you okay?”
I heard Dwight, my Kung Fu teacher, whisper in my mind.
Be aware of all opportunities this week
.
I appraised my victim. Maybe I asked Johnny out so I would be right here at this moment to meet this man. This was the universe teaching me. Far be it from me to callously disregard fate. So I grinned and batted my eyes at him.
His lips stretched slowly into a wide smile. “I guess you’re doing okay.”
I hoped my smile was suitably mysterious.
He slipped something into his pocket and took my hand. “Tell me, are you free for drinks in—” he glanced at his watch “—a couple of hours? We can meet at the Benson Hotel.”
I was about to shout
Yes
when I saw the tan line on the third finger of his left hand. What guy wore a ring on his third finger if he weren’t married? And the line was stark, so either he got divorced yesterday or what he slipped into his pocket was his wedding band.
The bastard.
Lowering my eyelids coquettishly, I plastered myself to his side, trailed my finger down the open vee of his shirt, and in a sex-heavy voice said, “At the Benson? I guess that means you really want to get to know me.”
His free hand skimmed over my ass. “Intimately.”
“That can be arranged.” My smile was slow and laden with promise.
Promise of retribution. Before he could make another slimy move, I thrust my knee, hard, right into his crotch.
Taking Kung Fu has a lot of advantages. One of the most important: learning how to nail a guy in the groin. You can aim anywhere in that region and get satisfaction, but for maximum damage, you need to hit under the balls in an upward motion (like you’re driving his package up into his body). Do that and the guy is down for the count.
This loser was no different. The second I drove my knee into him, he doubled over with a girlish squeal.
Unfortunately, my elbow
happened
to be in the way as he bent over so his nose ran into it.
I blinked innocently. “Oops. Sorry.” I shoved him aside and went on to the restroom.
I took my time in the restroom collecting myself. The cold towel I applied to the back of my neck did wonders for cooling me off, and in minutes I felt ready to go back to Johnny.
When I walked out of the restroom, I noticed my new friend sitting at a table with a skinny blonde who sported a whopping diamond on her finger. He was hunched over, clutching his lap, while the woman whispered at him with a mix of confusion and impatience. The ring was back on his finger.
The bastard. As I passed him, I caught his eye and made a grab-squeeze-twist motion with my hand. The color drained from his face and he looked away. Fast.
Suddenly, Barry didn’t seem so bad. He may not have been very interesting, but I doubted he’d hit on another woman behind my back.
But I was here with Johnny and determined to make a decent go of it. Even if he was a little dull.
So when I sank into my seat again, I favored him with a big smile. “Hey.”
He stared at my mouth so intently I thought I had a huge crumb or something on it. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he said, “What do you say we get out of here?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
He paid the bill while I downed my espresso. Jean-Jose thanked us as we walked out the door and around the corner to the car.
“What did you want to do next?” I asked, eyes on the uneven sidewalk to keep from tripping. There was a band playing at a bar down the street from my house. A rock band. A loud rock band. Loud music equaled no conversation; a big plus at this point.
Johnny stopped suddenly and yanked my arm.
“Oof!” I collided with his chest, which knocked the breath out of me.
And then his mouth was on mine.
I stared at his intently scrunched face. This wasn’t exactly what I’d planned, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Might as well know how he kisses. So I closed my eyes and gave myself up to it.
His technique was good. Not an overwhelming amount of tongue. Not too much saliva.
But his lips ... They were kind of mushy. It was like kissing the back of an old woman’s arm—the flabby part that swings when she waves. I frowned and tried to get past that, but the image was vivid and once it was in my head I couldn’t shake it.
On top of that, I was woozy from lack of air (he was like a Hoover), so I pushed on his chest and took a step back.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night.” Johnny stepped forward and tried to nuzzle my neck.
Tried, because I scrunched my shoulder and wormed my way out of his embrace. “Johnny, this is—” Wrong? Gross? I settled for, “Too soon.”
Hey, that was good. I mentally patted myself on the back and tried to look virginal.
“Too soon?” Johnny frowned and stepped back. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” I shook my head mournfully. Really, I wanted to grin. “This is our first date, and I want you to respect me.”

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